A Time to Rise, A Time to Fall
by AnthroQueen
Summary: But since it falls unto my lot that I should rise and you should not, I'll gently rise and I'll softly call: goodnight and joy be with you all.
1. One

**Well hello! It's me again! This is the multi-chap fic I talked about in the author's note of "Love & Sunshine" and yes, it really did take me this long to get it out to you. Writer's block was only partially responsible; the main reason was the fact that it's literally such a useless story, now, considering all that's happened in canon lately. But I've had this idea for years (seriously- since like season 4) and I had a bunch of random ideas and plot points written down for this thing since the Halloween episode for season 4 aired and I've been dying to write it ever since. So I did. And if it's totally random and useless now, well then... I agree with you. And I'm sorry. But I'm also kind of not?  
**

 **This story is going to be ten chapters and I can't promise steady updates, mostly because A- I'm still writing it and B- I'm working a shit ton lately and I barely see the internet, some days. But I'll do my best to get it out to you without too much of a wait time. It takes place after episode 5x05, but I've changed a pretty crucial storyline that this chapter is basically going to set up. Actually, the next one will, too, a little bit. We don't technically get into the real meat of the story until chapter 3, but you'll see that for yourself, if you stick around. If you don't, no hard feelings. You know I still love you even if you just clicked on this story by accident. :)**

 **Okay so I think that's it for me. Oh, actually, before I go, let me make this pretty clear- it's not a rewritten -A reveal story. -A will still be around, don't get me wrong, but there will be no reveal. I've written two of those already, you know? And I figured no one would want to read my version of that for a third time. So yeah! We're going to be a bit more focused on the "Alison" factor than the "-A" factor. So if that's not your thing, either, then maybe peace out here. Alright, should I maybe shut up so you can read and form an opinion on your own? I'll do that. The title and description are from an old Scottish traditional song that, apparently, Ed Sheeran covered, so you may already know of it lol. Thank you for being here, lovelies. You're all wonderful and I don't deserve the fabulous readers/reviewers I have. :)**

* * *

One

"I see walking bombs on the street, hearts not beating, but ticking." – Henry Rollins _, "The Portable Henry Rollins"_

The last time Spencer had seen her had been in Radley barely a week ago. She hadn't dared believe her eyes then; after all, her mind had committed the ultimate mutinous betrayal. But she's not sure she believes them now, either.

It's been about a year and a half since the discovery of Alison's body beneath the gazebo and so much has happened since then, Spencer's not sure she'd even recognize herself out of a lineup. The search and rescue parties had disbanded, the posters came down, and the headlines grew more and more dismal as the looks on people's faces waned from careful optimism to solemnity. The investigation had turned to murder and it seemed that every week, a new piece of evidence was discovered seemingly out of the blue and a brand new suspect was introduced to the Rosewood Police Department, despite the fact that their corrupt officers were likely behind the cover up to begin with. And Spencer's seen it all before; everyone has. In old crime movies and reruns of procedurals like _Law and Order: SVU_. But she'd never expected an episode to leap off of her television screen and cast her and her best friends in the starring roles. She'd never expected the stolen glances, the whispers behind cupped hands, and the gossiping rumors that always started with, " _Do you see those girls? Yeah, they're the friends of that dead girl_."

It's something they'd always tried to cope with. Of course, the circumstances were dire with –A at their heels every turn and the lying and the secrecy and the crushing weight of disappointment they'd see on all the faces of those they were speaking to, but when it came to Alison, they did what they could to make peace with their friend's death. They held a beautiful service that Alison herself might have designed, considering the dramatic spectacle it was. They dedicated a memorial to her in the center of the town and before it was destroyed it really was a testament to the simple fact that life was short and could end at any moment if one wasn't careful with whom they were dealing with. They participated in the charity fashion show Alison's mother held in an attempt to raise awareness- and to what, they're still not sure- and, again, before that was ruined, it was an emotional testament to one of the many things Alison loved. And despite everything, despite every stress and terror that everyday life with a cyber stalker awarded them, they never stopped thinking about the Alison of it all. After all, it had all started with her and it certainly didn't end now that she was gone.

Except- There were times when the girls questioned that fact and lately, they've been occurring more and more often. In the first few days following her disappearance, Spencer felt like she saw Alison everywhere she went; in the sea of faces waiting for the train, in line at The Brew waiting to order a coffee, on a bicycle in the park, pedaling in time with others. She'd hear Alison's laugh or the click of her heels on the pavement or one of her cryptic, coded sayings, _that's immortality, my darlings_. She would see a flash of blonde hair or striking blue eyes or catch a whiff of her signature perfume and think, _Ali's not gone. Ali's been here all along. We just haven't been looking in the right place._ And even after the police discovered her body beneath the fresh earth, there had been times when Spencer wondered if this, too, was just yet another one of Alison's elaborate ruses and that she was actually still out there, just waiting to come home.

These past few weeks have been a whirlwind of emotion and activity and when Spencer really stops to think about it, it makes her head spin. She's finally gotten Toby back, but she'd lost her soul and her mind and most of her dignity in the process and she knows in her heart that it'll be worth it in the long run and only hopes she can convince the girls. Her time in Radley is spotty and foggy at best, but she does remember Mona and she does remember accepting the black hoodie and she does remember Alison. She has no idea how much medication she was under and she has no idea if what she saw was real, but she does know that this was the first time since Alison's death that she's seen her, actually seen her, and not just bits and pieces of her, like her yellow top or her hair or that radiant, winning smile. This was Alison, full and present, corporeal and standing before her. Talking. Breathing. Taking her hands. Dancing. She was there and Spencer's sure of it. But she's not so sure _other people_ would be sure of it; in fact, she's almost positive that if she told someone about this, it would land her back in her old room at Radley. So she keeps mum, locks the memory safe inside her brain, and wonders if someday she and Alison will have a laugh about this when all is said and done.

She slips the hoodie over her torso ( _it fits like a glove_ ) and does what Mona says and is, ultimately, rewarded with Toby in a junky diner on the outskirts of town. He looks pretty alive to her but she can't even express her anger; she's much too upset. He is too and she can see it, clear as day, in that bright ice blue of his eyes. He takes her to a motel and she cannot comment on the irony, but it doesn't seem as though he's expecting it. She tells him he'd hurt her immensely, irrevocably, and he doesn't reply but what is there to say, really? He knows it's true and she can tell he wants to say something but he cannot; his emotions take over instead and it's in this very moment that Spencer realizes this is her Toby. It's been her Toby all along. There's an unspoken understanding and forgiveness lingering in the air around them and there's a conversation dying to be had, but there will be time for talking later. She kisses him instead. She kisses him and her world is set right again; the records stop skipping, the thunderclouds clear, and each day forward explodes with sunshine.

And everything had been great for all of about twenty minutes.

Now, she's walking through the cool, dark night, shivering and clutching the jacket around her shoulders closer to her body, the air biting at the bare skin of her legs as her dress swishes and rustles in her haste. She's not sure where she's going, Toby's just jogged in the opposite direction and she has half a mind to follow him because she's not ready to lose him all over again. Shaking her head of these thoughts, she tries to focus on the task at hand, ignoring the familiar crunch of twigs and leaves beneath her shoes and trying desperately not to think of what she'd found the last time she'd been alone in the woods. The air is thick with something Spencer cannot make out and through the mist and darkness, she sees the bright beam of a headlight cutting through the night. It's gone just as quickly as it had appeared, but she hurries to the best of her ability in that direction anyway. In a clearing just past the thicket of trees is the plane they've been searching for and Spencer hears the low hum of a motor and harsh, whispered voices. And it's dark and misty, a thick rolling fog obscuring her vision, but the figure climbing out of the plane is wearing a brilliant red trench coat, her blonde curls cascading out from underneath the hood.

She turns her head in Spencer's direction for a millisecond at the most, but Spencer sees. "Ali?"

She blinks, rubs her eyes, squints- but the figure is gone. The fog is growing thicker and thicker and Spencer is once again left wondering if what she's just seen is real or just her paranoid, anxiety-ridden mind playing a trick on her. She tries to follow this hooded figure but loses her somewhere past a line of trees, where the fog has grown so thick she can barely see five feet in front of her. The air is hot and suffocating and she begins to sweat; she whirls around and realizes that it isn't fog she's choking on but smoke, and the lodge is now behind her, up in flames. It's burning to the ground and all of her friends are inside. Adrenaline courses through her bloodstream and panic sets her heart racing as she sprints towards the burning building, desperate to save the friends she'd only recently sold out in an act of selfish foolishness. If they die beneath the burning embers of this building, their blood will be on Spencer's hands.

They're lying in a dirty, ash-covered heap about fifty feet from the burning building when Spencer finds them and she takes a moment to thank several deities she doesn't believe in. However, her relief upon finding them alive is tempered only slightly when she hears the conversation they're engaging in. Mona scrambles up to them, breathing heavily, and asks, "Did anyone see her?"

Emily's brow knits in confusion. "See who?"

"Alison," Mona replies and Spencer's face falls. Okay, she hadn't been the only one. But what does it mean if the two who had just seen a girl who's presumably dead are also the only two who've ever spent time in a sanitarium? Spencer's not entirely sure she likes her company and is beginning to wonder if her doctors had given her the clean bill of health by mistake.

"She pulled me out of there," Mona continues, shaking her head as if she, too, cannot simply believe it. "She pulled us all out."

"No," Aria disagrees. "You're hallucinating."

"She was here. I _swear_ it." Mona replies fiercely and despite the disbelief on Aria and Emily's faces, something flickers on Hanna's.

Emily says carefully, as if she's speaking to a small child, "Ali's dead."

But Hanna shakes her head and whispers, "I saw her too."

"So did I," Spencer tells them and all eyes are suddenly on her. "Ali is Red Coat."

"But that's…" Aria trails off, unable to express exactly what she's feeling. "That's not possible."

"She's dead," Emily repeats, but with much less conviction, this time, and everyone notices. "She can't just… That isn't… She can't be involved in all of this."

"Don't you remember?" Spencer asks, kneeling in the grass. "From the funeral? When we thought she was calling the shots all along?"

"But it was Mona," Aria replies and Mona purses her lips. "It was Mona all along."

"It hasn't been me in months," Mona replies. "She visited me in Radley. She took the game back."

"She visited me too," Spencer adds, just a touch quieter. "And you've all been there. She visited _all_ of us. And how can she do that if she's gone?"

"I told you she came to the hospital when I broke my leg last year," Hanna points out. "None of you believed me! Believe me now? I've been saying this all along- I don't think she's really gone."

Emily hesitates. "I saw her too. The day of Hanna's dad's wedding. But I just thought… Well, I don't know what I thought. I don't know what to think, anymore."

"Are you serious? Come on! She's _dead_. She's been dead almost two years!" Aria exclaims. "You can't go by the times we thought we saw her! I mean, come on, I had a ridiculously high fever. Emily, you breathed in _way_ too much carbon monoxide to be considered healthy. Hanna, you were on a ton of pain medication. And Spencer…"

"I was what?" Spencer asks, a bit defensively. "Crazy?"

Aria bites her lip and goes another way. "I'm just saying. We can't go by those circumstances. None of us were in our right minds."

Hanna asks, "Then what about tonight? How do you explain that?"

"The effects of smoke inhalation!"

"Emily, I don't know who drugged you this summer," Mona confesses and Emily frowns. "I don't know what made you go to the cemetery and dig up Ali's grave. But do you remember what you found when you did?"

"Yeah," Emily replies. "Nothing."

"Exactly!" Hanna exclaims. "And how do you explain _that?_ Where's her body if she's dead?"

"Um, am I the only one who remembers Halloween?" Aria asks and a collective shiver runs down the girls' spines. "We all drank from a cooler that doubled as a morgue all night."

Spencer counters, "We don't know that it's her body."

"What do you mean?"

"It's a body bag with her name on it and the DiLaurentises just sealed it in the mausoleum," Spencer explains. "But they never ran DNA. They never gave her a second autopsy. For all we know… That body in her crypt isn't even hers."

"Jesus, Spencer."

"That's disgusting."

"This is creeping me out," Hanna shakes her head, standing as the girls follow suit. "Can we please get out of here?"

They clamber into Emily's car and set their sights on Rosewood, the burning lodge in the rearview mirror shrinking rapidly even as the glow is ever present. No one says a word. It isn't until they've reached the center of the town that Emily asks, "If she's still alive… If she never died… Then why hasn't she come home? Why hasn't she ever said anything? Why did she let the news report on her death and the cops lead an investigation to find her murderer and her family and friends suffer thinking she was gone?"

"Because," Mona answers simply. "I don't think she has a choice."

Spencer nods her agreement. "Yeah. I mean, if she wasn't taken… If this person who allegedly murdered her didn't kidnap her, then maybe they drove her out of town. This person is obviously extremely dangerous and Ali, if she is still out there, fears for her life. She can't come home and she can't tell anyone if she _is_ still alive because… Well, then, she wouldn't be."

"Guys…" Hanna asks. "This person… Is it –A?"

"And more importantly," Aria adds. "Are we next?"

In seconds, their phones chime and their tormentor awakens. _You're mine now. Kisses, -A._

Looking back on it, Spencer will always remember this exact moment as the beginning of the end.

* * *

The Great Charlemagne has just made Aria disappear and it's been a very, very weird afternoon.

"Wait, where'd she go?" Hanna panics and Spencer shakes her head, shivering a bit despite the tepid air.

"Just keep watching."

In the weeks since the lodge had burned to the ground, not much had changed and yet, it seemed as if everything had. They'd been chasing hint after hint to try and prove that Alison is still out there somewhere and yet everything they'd found thus far pointed to her being dead. –A had moved on from just torturing the four girls to now tormenting their paramours as well; Caleb and Paige had been put in harm's way innumerous times and Toby was going through his own personal hell- reliving the days before and days after his mother's death. It absolutely killed Spencer to watch him receive these texts full of pictures and empty clues that ultimately led nowhere, because it was so obviously pouring salt in an old wound that hadn't ever actually healed. And they had _just_ gotten back on solid ground with one another, too; they sat down, talked through all of their emotional torment and pain following her hospitalization and his fabricated demise, and were back in each other's good graces just long enough for the shit to hit the fan all over again.

It isn't a matter directly concerning their relationship and no matter how painful it will be for them, Spencer knows they'll be fine. What she's more concerned about these days are the implications that Alison is still alive. She can handle –A's torture; she's been doing so for two years. But things are getting worse and worse for each of them and she's beginning to wonder if this is what things were like for Alison in her last few days in Rosewood. Aria and Emily are still wary to broach the subject even now, and Spencer knows they still aren't convinced that their friend could be alive. She's honestly not sure why she thinks so, either; she's always prided herself on her logical reasoning and all rational thought is pointing towards her friend being dead. But still… The uncertainty surrounding Alison's capture and demise is not sitting well with Spencer. And nothing gets her blood boiling quite like a brand new puzzle to solve.

Somehow, they've ended up in Ravenswood, even though if Spencer never came back to this greying and decaying town it would be too soon. Somehow, they've been drawn into a magic show that –A has personally invited them to and maybe in a different place, in a different town, in a different life, Spencer might have enjoyed this. Magic had always held a special kind of thrill for her, but this is different. This sets her on edge; it doesn't excite her. And it only makes her all the more nervous as Aria is called up to the stage to participate by the mime in full carnival-esque circus makeup. Hanna is buzzing beside her with anxiety, but Spencer knows this trick; hell, Spencer's performed this trick three times over. And when Aria pops out, unharmed and well, moments later, everyone claps and she receives a long-stemmed red rose for her efforts and Hanna breathes a sigh of relief.

But relief does not stay; it is soon replaced with panic as Aria rejoins the girls and asks, "Where's Emily?"

And in their haste, The Great Charlemagne had made Aria disappear and reappear, but it's Emily who had actually vanished from sight. And it's then that they receive the text- _Leger de main_. Sleight of hand. A breeze ruffles the trees surrounding them and a cool emptiness sets in. They're in unfamiliar territory. They have no idea where to look.

From the phone call with Emily seconds later, they learn she's locked somewhere she thinks is a coffin and there's a huge, loud saw in the background. But then they see it- a woman, darting away into traffic, in a red trench coat. Tearing after her, they chase her into a sawmill where they find Emily, locked in a coffin straight from the Wild West era, heading for a saw that would easily slice in her pieces. It takes all three of them to pry open the coffin and free Emily, and it isn't until after they do that they realize there isn't one Red Coat, but two. One has just stopped the saw, seemingly on their side, and sprints outside while the other heads up the stairs, a waxy, plastic mask of Alison's face covering her true identity. Emily is near hyperventilation, shaking and trembling with fear as she climbs out of the coffin and Hanna pulls her into an embrace as Aria heads upwards, after the second of the two Red Coats. Spencer glances at all the chaos and for reasons she's not sure of at the moment, takes off after the one who's gone outside.

It isn't until after she's back at the sawmill that Spencer can actually come to terms with what she's just found. Emily's shrieking, "It was Alison. I'm telling you, it was Alison!"

"It's CeCe," Aria corrects her, glancing over at the crumpled body on the ground, her hair fanning out in all directions and her leg bent at an awkward angle. "CeCe must be Red Coat, Em. But I can see how you'd get confused. I mean, they're both blonde and Ali's mom said they used to trade places all the time-"

"No, _that's_ CeCe," Emily shakes her head. "The other one… There were two; we _all_ saw them. The other one was Alison."

"Em…"

"No, she's right," Hanna agrees. "Who else would've turned off that saw? Who else would've helped us like that? I mean, Ali was a monster but she never wanted to hurt us. She'd never let that happen."

Aria turns in disbelief to Spencer and asks, "Well? What do you think?"

"I think Emily's right." Spencer says and Aria frowns. "I chased her out of here, but she waited for me every chance she got; at the door, at the corner… She wanted me to follow her. She wanted me to see this."

"See what?"

"Come on," Spencer nods towards the door. "I have to show you something."

Together, they make their way out of the mill and down the street, to a seedy-looking apartment complex in the middle of town. Spencer opens the door and hurries up the stairs like she owns the place, the other girls following in her footsteps just a bit cautiously. When Spencer pushes open the door at the very end of the hallway, they step inside to experience the same awful, gut-wrenching, speechless feeling that Spencer had when she first entered only mere moments ago. Plastered along the walls are photos of Alison at all stages of teenage hood and each of the girls' faces is there too. There are various computer screens, all dark, and keyboards, spy equipment, and cameras. There are notebooks full of pages upon pages of documentation; each time the girls went to school, what they were wearing, what they did and said. It sends a cold shiver down Spencer's spine just as it had the first time and, disgusted, she has to turn away.

Emily asks, her face pale, "What _is_ this place?"

It takes Spencer a moment to find her voice. "I think it's –A's lair."

"This is fucked," Hanna exclaims and crosses her arms over her chest. "I'm going to be sick."

"I feel so violated," Aria shakes her head. "This is… This is…"

"This is how –A's been watching us." Spencer finishes. "This is how –A is everywhere, all the time."

"This is why Ali can't come home," Emily says and turns to Aria, asking, "Do you still think she's dead?"

"It would have to be a miracle for her _not_ to be, wouldn't it?" Aria returns. "I mean, seriously! Look at all of this stuff. Ali was good but she wasn't _that_ good. How else would she escape a monster like this?"

"The same way we have," Emily replies. "By the skin of our teeth."

Hanna sits down in front of the computer screen and begins tapping away at the keys. Spencer asks, "What are you doing?"

"No one's tried this yet," She shrugs. "I'm getting us into –A's files, one way or another."

"All that time with Caleb's finally paid off, huh?" Spencer jokes and Hanna pulls a face.

"He's on his way but that doesn't mean I can't start and try to get _something_ before he gets here," She sighs. "I can't believe we're here. I can't believe we're doing this."

"I know." Aria shakes her head. "I have goose bumps."

Emily picks up a rather large notebook, bursting at the seams. "This is like a scrapbook, almost. Look- that's Ali's handwriting and everything."

Spencer's on the other side of the room, gazing at the timelines. There's a large white board with her face, the girls' faces, and all the things that have happened to them since Alison's disappearance. She frowns at the picture of Toby and anger fuels her veins. _Leave him out of this_. "-A's been watching all of us this whole time. Everything we've ever done… It's all on here."

"Yeah, Alison too," Aria comments from the other side. "But look- her timeline ends on Memorial Day, the day she went missing. There's just a question mark. How can you possibly think she's still alive?"

"But look, they're having a celebration tonight," Hanna points out and there's an invitation stapled to a corkboard. In red ink, -A's written, _Girls_ _11 p.m._ "-A thinks we're going to be there. We're the 'girls' right?"

"Does –A know something we don't?" Emily asks. "Or… something we do?"

"It might mean Ali is going to be there, too. And by now, -A has to know we're going after her." Spencer shrugs. "Whatever it is, we need to get to her first."

They leave the lair behind and find that darkness has fallen on this very strange day. But something makes them stop in their tracks right outside the apartment; or, rather, _someone_. Spencer's eyes widen as she asks, "Mrs. Grunwald?"

"You are fighting an evil that cannot be contained," The woman says. "I only hope this time he will not get away with it."

"She asked you for help," Spencer says. "I know she did. Why did you say you had never met her?"

"I'm sorry I lied," Mrs. Grunwald tells her. "I thought if I threw you off this path, then you would no longer continue to travel down it. I'm afraid I was unsuccessful. But the facts remain."

"Do you know who it is?" Hanna asks. "Do you know who hurt her?"

"Alison was afraid. And Alison was right to be." Mrs. Grunwald replies. "You cannot help now, for it is too late. Your plans are misguided."

"Mrs. Grunwald," Emily interrupts. "We're trying to bring Ali home."

The older woman smiles but it doesn't fit her face and sets goose bumps across Spencer's skin. "Then you are looking in the wrong place. You will not find her here."

As she walks away, Aria exhales heavily. "Oh my god. She's still alive."

"And we've got to bring her home," Hanna says. "We have to. Otherwise…"

"Otherwise," Spencer finishes. "He's going to kill her. And then we'll be next."

* * *

She shouldn't have mentioned the possibility of Alison being alive to Toby. She shouldn't have mentioned the possibility of Alison being alive to her parents. And she _definitely_ shouldn't have mentioned the possibility of Alison being alive to Jason.

The moment Jason hears this, it's all he can think about and he has about a million and seven questions for Spencer about why she thinks this and Spencer is cringing so hard and cursing her big mouth. He takes this to the police, demanding answers, and before Spencer knows it, they've retrieved the body from Alison's crypt for DNA testing. Of course Spencer believes this body is not that of her friend but she wonders what will happen once the truth comes out. Have they been barking up the wrong tree? Have they been collectively hallucinating the figure of their lost friend? Has it been Alison all along, buried and forgotten? Spencer doesn't know. But any second now, the police will reveal the truth and either way, their lives will be forever changed.

And their lives have already been changed in these past few weeks and not exactly for the better. Caleb had decided to stay in Ravenswood to help a friend and utterly heartbroken by his departure, Hanna had broken up with him, dated a boy named Travis she hadn't ever really liked and started drinking. It turned out that the lair they'd found in Ravenswood hadn't been –A's but Ezra's, and this had all but destroyed Aria, who cut off and stopped speaking to him immediately despite his best efforts, unable to get over this betrayal. They'd traveled to New York on a false tip from –A, who then sent them on a wild goose chase that ended with the death of Shana, something they were now responsible for. And they'd been lying to their parents about their whereabouts and their wrongdoings ever since.

But now Spencer's sitting in that old tan Chevy truck and she's so overwhelmed by her own trauma that she's _finally_ confessed all of this Toby, every last detail she's been keeping from him since the beginning. She's kept her gaze trained solely on her wringing hands in her lap because she's too ashamed to meet his eye. He's been very quiet and she's spent the better part of an hour talking, but now that she's done, she just wishes he would say _something_. Most likely, he's just processing every awful thing she's just said, but the anticipation is killing her and she's honestly wondering if he's just trying to figure out a nice way to let her know he simply can't do this anymore. After everything she's done and everything she's said, she'd expect it, after all.

"Are you mad at me?" Spencer asks and finally chances a glance at him. There are a thousand different emotions all rolled into that deep cobalt of his eyes. "For waiting so long to tell you?"

He gives her a look like it's the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard in his life. "Spence… Get over here."

She does not hesitate. Scrambling across the bench, she settles into his arms and he holds her so tightly, she wonders if he realizes how hard she's trying not to fall apart. It wouldn't surprise her if he did; his intuition never ceases to amaze her. "All I want you to know is that you're never alone. Not even for a second."

She doesn't deserve him. It's all she can think of the moment she turns in his arms to indulge in a loving kiss that grows more and more passionate by the second. He's much too good for her, much too pure and understanding and untainted by Rosewood's poison, but somehow, he's never seen it like that and he's, instead, always in her corner, always on her side. She doesn't know what she would do without him and selfishly, she thanks her lucky stars that he hasn't realized yet he could do so much better than her. He pulls her onto his lap, deepening the kiss, and she loses herself in the pleasurable feeling of his lips on hers, something she'll never get enough of. But then, her cell phone rings and she pulls back the tiniest bit to glance at the dashboard where she'd left it. As usual, something's come between them.

"Don't answer it," Toby pleads, his hands still in her shirt, his lips attached to her neck and collarbone. "Come on, we need some time together."

"I know. I'm sorry. It's just…" She sighs and runs a hand through her mussed hair, trying to pull herself together. "It could be important."

He eyes her, watching as she reaches for her phone, and teases, "This is important too."

"I'm sorry." She repeats, almost pleadingly, and he lets it go. "It's Emily."

"Spencer, it's on," Emily says before Spencer can even say hello. "It's on the news right now. You need to come over."

"Now? They finished testing already?" Spencer exclaims. "I'm… I'm with Toby."

"Bring him. He could probably stand to hear this too."

In the short drive to Emily's house, Toby asks, "What do you think they're going to find?"

And there are a million different answers to that simple question, but Spencer sticks with, "The truth."

They're the last to arrive and if this were a less important gathering, Spencer would definitely question why Ezra and Caleb are here too, because the last she knew, Aria and Hanna weren't even speaking to their ex-paramours. But she can't focus on that right now; she takes a seat beside Paige and Emily, drags Toby down with her, and grips his hand like a lifeline. On the television, a news anchor reports, " _There is breaking news tonight in the investigation of the remains buried in Alison DiLaurentis's grave. We expect the Rosewood Police Department to make a statement on the identity of the murdered girl tonight at eleven_."

"We have five minutes," Emily says although everyone's eyes had flocked to the clock upon the announcement. "I am so terrified of what we're about to discover."

It's like she's taken the words directly from Spencer's mouth. Toby glances at her, gives her hand a squeeze, and says, "Breathe. It's all going to work out, okay?"

She nods but she's not sure if she can take the words to heart. The five minutes tick by in an agonizing litany before the familiar news jingle resonates through the air and the Rosewood Police Department comes onto the screen. The news anchor clears her throat and says, "This mystery has continued to haunt Rosewood, as the murder has never been solved, and this announcement is right on the heels of the more recent murder of Alison's mother, Jessica DiLaurentis."

"Come on," Ezra says a moment later, breaking the silence. "Just give this family some peace."

Spencer stares at him, wondering who had even invited him here in the first place, and she almost misses the next piece of crucial evidence. "We take you now to the Rosewood Police Chief."

A tall burly man comes on the screen and has a no-nonsense demeanor that makes Spencer's heart pound. "Good evening ladies and gentlemen. I've called this press conference because we received confirmation tonight that the body buried in Alison DiLaurentis's grave is indeed not the body of Alison DiLaurentis."

Spencer's eyes go wide and she's fairly sure she's stopped breathing. From beside her, Toby asks, "Did he just say-?"

Caleb asks, "Does that mean-?"

"But then where is-?" Ezra adds, but the girls are silent.

"The remains found in Alison DiLaurentis's grave do, however, match the DNA of another patient thought to have gone missing at that same time." The chief continues. "The name of the victim that was buried alive on the DiLaurentis property was Bethany Young. She was a seventeen-year-old patient at the Radley Institution and was believed to have run away from the hospital on the night that Alison DiLaurentis was allegedly kidnapped. The victim's parents have been notified and the family is requesting at this time that you respect their privacy and allow them to grieve over the loss of their loved one."

"Wait," Spencer sputters. "Allegedly? Allegedly kidnapped?"

"We are prepared to launch a full investigation to bring Bethany Young's killer to justice as well as to locate and retrieve the remains of Alison DiLaurentis," The chief concludes. "We ask that anyone with any information on either case please come forward at this time. There will be no questions and no comments from the Rosewood Police Department until further notice. Thank you."

"It's not her," Emily says finally. "It's not her body. It's not Alison."

"She's still out there, somewhere," Hanna adds. "She's out there and she needs our help."

"Hanna…" Caleb trails off and Hanna glares in his direction.

" _What?_ " She snarls. "You think we're crazy now? He just proved that it wasn't Alison's body."

"Yes," Ezra answers and all eyes snap to his figure. "But that doesn't mean she's alive. It just means the location of her remains is unknown."

"Her remains?" Aria exclaims. "She's our friend! Can you stop talking about her like she's some faceless Jane Doe?"

"Aria, I think he's just trying to prepare you for the fact that…" Paige sighs. "That she's most likely still dead."

"She isn't," Emily replies. "She isn't. We've seen her."

"No, you _think_ you've seen her. All of those circumstances would make it highly likely for some sort of hallucination-"

"It wasn't a hallucination! She's alive! She's in trouble! She needs our help!"

"She's been dead for two years!"

"Then where's her body? Huh? Where is it? Show me the body if she's dead."

"No one knows where it is, but that doesn't mean-"

"No, it means she's still out there, walking around, scared for her life!"

"Hey!" Toby shouts and the room goes quiet. "Does anyone hear that?"

There's a loud crackling sound coming from outside and just as Emily stands to inspect the noise, the window explodes and glass rains down into the living room. She dives to the floor as the others follow her lead and yells, "What the _hell_ was that?"

"It's coming from outside," Spencer replies, peeking up and over the windowsill. Her eyes become saucers at the sight. "Toby… Your house."

"Spencer, _get down_ ," He yanks at her arm, attempting to pull her to the floor as the rest of the group begins to army crawl out the front door. "It's not safe."

"No, Toby, _your house_ ," Spencer shakes her head, shrugging out of his grip and standing as he does the same. "It's on fire."

From there, he sprints for the front door, Spencer hot on his heels. There is carnage all over the street; cars ablaze, furniture charred, bits and pieces of the house just hanging from the roaring fire, falling onto the lawn. The others are staring, wide-eyed, as the house rumbles in front of them and after a beat, Caleb asks, "Is anyone in there?"

And at that, Toby takes off towards the building, throwing caution to the wind as his girlfriend crumbles in his absence. "No! Toby! Get back here! Please! Just stay here! _Please!_ "

She shrieks and tears at her hair and before she can even think twice, she starts after him, expertly navigating around the burning debris like a real-life game of 'the floor is lava'. Aria chases after her and grabs an arm before she can get too close and a piece of siding falls off the house and lands right where they had just been standing. "What are you doing? Do you have a death wish?"

"You think I'm going to stand here and watch Toby kill himself?" Spencer shouts back. " _Let go of me!_ I have to go after him!"

" _I'll_ go," Caleb volunteers. "You stay here. Do not follow me."

"I'll go too," Ezra says, chancing a glance at Aria, who purses her lips but says nothing. "Toby will be fine. Just don't move."

They take off into the building, following in Toby's footsteps, and Spencer chews each one of her fingernails until she's just about down to the cuticle. Emily places a hand on her shoulder and offers, "He'll be fine."

"You don't know that," Spencer shakes her head, her eyes trained on the house that's still up in flames. "It's not the first time –A's tried to kill him and what if this is the time she succeeds?"

"I called the fire department," Paige announces. "They're sending paramedics too."

"You may not have a death wish, Spence, but I'm pretty sure Caleb does," Hanna says, shifting her weight from one foot to the other anxiously. "I know Toby's his best friend, but he's been _so_ weird since he moved out to Ravenswood. I don't know what's going on out there- or with him."

"But they'll get him out of there, Spence. Ezra and Caleb will," Aria assures her friend. "And they'll all be okay."

"Thought you were done with him?" Hanna asks and Aria rolls her eyes.

"I am but I don't want the man to _die_ ," She sighs. "A little harsh, isn't it?"

When the fire team arrives, the first question they ask is, "Is anyone inside?"

"We don't know," Emily answer truthfully. "A few of us went in to check."

The chief raises a brow at them and then shakes his head and takes off, hoses in tow. Spencer's pretty sure she's going to be sick. Her stomach is pitching and rolling and every second is passing by so slowly, she feels as if she's stuck, drowning, in the grains of sand in an hourglass. Her anxiety heightens tenfold every minute she doesn't see Toby and when the paramedics arrive, she turns to Hanna and asks, "Why aren't they out yet? Why haven't they come out yet?"

"I don't know," Hanna shakes her head, her face pale. "I don't know what's happening."

In a moment, Spencer's phone buzzes in her pocket and she fumbles with the lock screen as Hanna asks, desperately, "Is it them? The guys?"

"No, worse." Spencer's eyes fill with tears. "It's –A."

 _Ashes, ashes, we all fall down. –A_

"Wait, over there!" Aria points out as the girls' eyes snap in that direction. "Look!"

Ezra comes first, coughing and waving smoke away from his face, and behind him, Toby and Caleb are on either side of an older man, supporting his weight as they half carry, half drag him away from the burning building. Spencer's entire body sags with relief and as the guys deposit the man with the paramedics, she runs the distance between them and throws herself into Toby's arms. He's trembling with fear and leftover adrenaline and she holds him as tightly as she can, pressing kisses against every inch of him she can reach. Over his shoulder, she watches for a moment as Hanna and Caleb and Ezra and Aria have a slightly less enthusiastic reunion and then closes her eyes, relishing in the pleasure of being in his arms. He coughs a little, choking a bit on the smoke and when she pulls back, she notes he's covered in ash. Frowning, she pushes some damp, sweaty hair out of his eyes as he attempts a smile to placate her.

"I'm fine. Really."

"You need to get checked out," Spencer disagrees. "Let the paramedics be the judge of that."

"I didn't breathe too much of it in. I had my shirt over my face the whole time," Toby says. "Promise."

"Still," Spencer insists. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"I was thinking… I was thinking my father was in there and I was right." Toby admits. "I was thinking that I didn't want to lose him. It's my dad, Spence. I mean, we've had our differences in the past but he's still my dad. And I've already…"

He trails off but she's already heard the unspoken ending. _I've already lost one parent. I can't lose the other one too._ Spencer nods in understanding and pulls him back into an embrace. "Please don't ever scare me like that again."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I understand why you did it. But that was enough of a heart attack for a lifetime."

Upon her insistence, he gets examined by the paramedics and released when they determine he hasn't harmed his health too much by his act of bravery that evening. His father is transported to the hospital, the fire is tamed and eventually put out and an exhausted Toby turns away from the site of his childhood home in ruins, asking Spencer if she'd like to come back to his place to decompress. She can't get an acceptance out fast enough; there is absolutely no circumstance under which she was leaving him alone tonight. They retreat to the loft after Spencer sends a quick text to her mother saying she'd be staying at Hanna's that night (and to Hanna, asking her to cover for her) and Toby takes a long shower to wash all the ash and smoke out of his skin and hair. Spencer makes them each a cup of tea and then it's nearing two a.m., but they're wide-awake, unable to sleep after the horrors they've seen.

"Do you think your dad's going to be okay?" Spencer asks after a beat, unsure of where Toby's head's at after so much activity in so little time.

"Yeah, I'm sure he will," Toby nods. "I'll go visit him in the morning. I guess we've got to figure out what we're going to do with the house."

"The insurance will cover most of the damage, right?"

"Yeah, but… Not any of the things," Toby says and glances down at his mug. "Not any of the memories."

Spencer bites her lip. "How many of your mom's things were destroyed, you think?"

"Hopefully not too much," Toby replies quietly. "I took as much as I could with me when I moved here, but there's still a lot that wouldn't fit and… I'm just hoping it wasn't anything too sentimental."

Spencer frowns. "I'm so sorry Toby."

"Why?" Toby wonders. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"No, but I did. I mean… I'm part of what's happening to you." She tells him. "You know that this never would've happened if-"

"Let's not play that game," Toby says and she falls silent. "It did happen. And that's something I have to deal with now. I can't think about the what-ifs."

She's still feeling so supremely miserable and he must sense this. He sets his mug down on the coffee table, takes hers from her grasp and places it beside his and then takes both of her hands in his. "What's wrong, Spence? You've been all over the place tonight."

"There's so much happening." Spencer shakes her head. "I'm just beginning to lose track of it all. It just feels like…"

"It feels like what?"

"Like –A is getting stronger," She confesses. "But we're getting weaker."

"I imagine by now it would feel like that." Toby agrees and she sighs. "But I don't think that it's true. You're the strongest person I know. Your resilience amazes me everyday. And I know things are getting scary again, with the whole Alison mystery and everything. But I don't think that means you're getting weaker. I don't think it's anything you can't handle."

"Well definitely not alone," Spencer points out. "I wouldn't be able to do any of this without you or the girls."

He smiles and wraps an arm around her shoulders as she melts against him. "What do you think of the press conference?"

"You know what I think," Spencer answers. "I think she's still alive and I think she's out there, somewhere, waiting for a safe time to come back."

After a beat, she adds, "And judging by your silence, you do not feel the same way."

"Well," He hesitates. "I don't know. I mean, I think her body being missing is sketchy to say the least. I think that Alison being alive is an option, yes, but I don't know that it's the actual answer."

"I get that," Spencer says. "I wouldn't believe it myself if I hadn't seen her."

"That's what you keep saying," Toby replies. "But where did you see her? You said yourself that it's not safe for her to come home. So how did she?"

"I don't know. I'm still trying to figure that out. I saw her in Radley," Spencer answers and at the look on Toby's face, she quickly adds, "And at the lodge that night and in Ravenswood."

Toby nods and asks the question she's been dreading. "Are you sure?"

She realizes there's really no reason to lie to him. Not anymore. "No. Of course not. How can I be sure? How can I be sure of anything anymore?"

He then asks, "You're going to try and figure this out, aren't you?"

"I have to. I have to put an end to this." Spencer nods and then wonders, "Will you help me?"

Toby smirks in that way that tells her she's known the answer all along. "Any way I can."

Her phone buzzes and she excuses herself to the bathroom to ready herself for bed as Toby takes their mugs to the kitchen sink. Behind the closed door, she reaches for the cell phone in her pocket and holds her breath, sure it's from their tormentor. She's right. Her eyes widen in their sockets, she can feel her heart in her throat, and she barely dares to breathe.

 _Bitch didn't see me coming, but you do. Stay out of my way or I'll kill you. –A_


	2. Two

**Well hello again friends! Thank you all for your encouraging responses to the first chapter of this little beast. I was worried everyone would either A- be sick of seeing my nonsensical ramblings on this site or B- would hate this reimagining of a very crucial storyline that the show used ages ago. And maybe some of you did, but those of you who reviewed spoke otherwise, so I cannot thank you enough. I did, however, say that this takes a minute or two to set up, so this will be the second half of the introductory chapters before we really get into the meat of the story next chapter. Hopefully you won't get too bored or too frustrated with me. :P**

 **Some of you had kind of hinted at or mentioned that you maybe knew where I was going with this and you probably do because I do not know how to be subtle. LOL. But to those of you who haven't figured it out yet, I hope you'll still want to be along for the ride. Things are going to get a little dark and are going to be a little rougher than my past couple of stories, but fear not! I promise I won't leave you all weeping with despair. Anyway, as usual, my author's note is about as long as the chapter now, so I'll leave you be. Thank you for reading and thank you doubly if you choose to review. I love you all so much!**

* * *

Two

"In the kingdom of glass everything is transparent, and there is no place to hide a dark heart." – Vera Nazarian, " _The Perpetual Calendar of Inspiration_ "

It's been exactly five months since the fire, since the reveal that Alison's body is missing, and Rosewood has yet to find any new information regarding her whereabouts. In that time, Hanna and Caleb had reconciled but remain estranged, Aria continued her pattern of not giving Ezra the time of day, Emily and Paige were consistently on-again, off-again, and Spencer and Toby were, for once, the most stable of the four. He'd joined the Rosewood Police Department to everyone's surprise and it's something he and Spencer fight over every now and then, but she does realize this action comes from a place of concern, so for the most part she lets it go. Thanksgiving passes and then Christmas, the New Year rings in and now it's two weeks into April, the cold weather begins to wane, and they're nowhere near getting any answers. Making matters worse, of course, is their ever-present torturer, sending them death threats on the regular, and the girls are beginning to lose it.

They begin to see Alison everywhere they go; at the Grille, at school, at city hall, even in their own homes. What's worse is that they're still expected to be at school, in class performing regularly like they don't have a murderous psychopath on their tails. Spencer loses interest by the day in her schoolwork and her after-school activities; someone else chooses a prom theme, someone else takes over her side for debate team, someone else plays for her at states for field hockey. Her heart's just not in it, anymore. She's so damn _tired_ all the time and she can't focus on anything worth a damn; hell, if she's not awake trying to haphazardly finish an essay on time, then she's desperately trying to piece together the puzzle this mystery has given her. Except, unluckily for her, -A's given her all the wrong pieces and won't even let her see the box.

She receives a C- on her calculus midterm and her teacher shoots her a puzzling look. Spencer frowns and tucks it into her binder but not before it's caught the eye of Andrew Campbell, who peers over her shoulder as they're leaving class to ask, "How'd you do? _Damn_ , is that a C? Have you ever gotten a C before?"

"No," Spencer replies wearily. "Shut up."

"Mama and Papa Hastings are gonna be _pissed_ ," Andrew teases, ignoring her warning. "That's not the way you get valedictorian, Hastings. Come on, you used to be a shoe-in. What happened?"

"I'm not going to be valedictorian," Spencer says and even though she mostly doesn't care anymore- she's got bigger things to worry about, after all- a lump still grows in her throat at the thought. "So I guess it's all yours. You're welcome."

She tries to hurry past him, but he catches her elbow, his playful demeanor melting into one of concern instead. "Hey, what's going on? Everything alright?"

"Yeah, sure."

"This have to do with Alison?" Andrew wonders. "Come on, you know they're going to find her eventually."

"No, it's nothing," Spencer insists and glances over her shoulder. "I've got to get to physics."

"Hey listen," Andrew stops her once more. "If you need anything, you can ask me. You know that, right? Like if you're falling behind, I can always tutor you a little."

"Oh my god." Spencer rolls her eyes. She once had to explain to him- and it took _twenty minutes_ \- the difference between instantaneous rate of change and instantaneous velocity, but yeah. _She's_ the one who needs tutoring. "I'm fine. Seriously."

"You sure? Because I'll take payment of any kind in return." He grins and she smirks. "First seat in debate, baked goods, you making out with me…"

Spencer sighs. "Still with the-"

"Yeah, yeah, the carpenter. I know." Andrew smirks. "Or… the cop, right? I still have to get used to that. And I better leave you alone before you send him after me. I don't think Dartmouth will appreciate a criminal record."

"No, probably not, but I assure you, I'm _fine_." Spencer says. "I'm exhausted and stressed and now I'm going to be late for physics, but I'm fine."

As she turns to go, he calls after her, "Exhausted and stressed? Why didn't you lead with that? I'll have my people call your people!"

She rolls her eyes and basically sleeps through physics, but by the time she's out, there's someone waiting for her at the doorway. It's a guy she used to be in debate with, Brad, and he keeps looking over his shoulder like he's in the middle of a mafia movie. Spencer eyes him and asks, "Hey Brad. What's going on? What are you doing?"

"Andrew sent me," He whispers and nods his head towards the back hallway. She follows warily. "He says you could use my services."

"Oh yeah?" Spencer crosses her arms over her chest. "And those would be…?"

Brad reaches into his messenger bag and produces a plastic orange container with a childproof cap. He takes her hand, encloses the bottle in her palm, and says, "That ought to do the trick. Should last a while, but let me know if you need more."

He disappears and Spencer is left standing in the middle of the empty hall, her heart slamming against her ribcage. She turns the bottle over and over in her hands, listening to the capsules rattle against the hard plastic and her mouth goes dry. She couldn't possibly do this again… Could she? No, the last time was _so_ awful and she'd become a terrifying monster. She'd done unspeakable things to her friends and family and even worse, she couldn't remember most of it. Every nerve ending comes alive at the thought of slipping this tiny white pill into her mouth, at the rush of adrenaline it would bring, at the feeling of coming home it would likely give her. She needs it. She _wants_ it desperately. She pops the top before she can think twice and slips not one, but two of pills into her mouth, swallowing them dry.

She can feel herself falling down the rabbit hole and tears well in her eyes. _Oh, Mr. Rabbit…_

* * *

It's the second time she's skipped class in the last three days. It's becoming a habit she doesn't care to break.

Aria takes a sip of lemonade and continues flipping through the album full of photos she's recently had developed, contemplating. Many of the shots are off center or out of focus and most are in black and white. For no particular reason at all, it brings her immense joy. She glances at the abandoned streets, the porcelain dolls with cracked faces, the store windows with bored patrons glancing back out onto the sidewalk and thinks this almost looks like the disjointed opening credits from next season's _American Horror Story_. She's not sure when her love of photography began or when her subjects became so dark and mysterious, but she has a feeling that finding out her missing best friend might not actually be dead could have something to do with it.

She's in the middle of town, sitting at a table outside of the Grille. School has lost all its appeal to her and she hasn't made it to all nine of her classes in days. Abandoning her photography, Aria reaches into her school bag and produces a small book of poetry, slumping down in the chair and beginning to read, undisturbed. Or, at least she's undisturbed for a moment- within minutes there's a sound of footsteps coming towards her and then the unmistakable shadow passes like a cloud over her page. When she glances up, her eyes narrow- Ezra Fitz is on the other side of the table and he smiles at her despite the look in her eyes, taking the unoccupied seat across from her. "One o'clock on a Wednesday? Shouldn't you be in class?"

"Senior Skip Day," Aria offers simply and turns the page.

"Then I'd imagine I'd be seeing more of your colleagues around here," Ezra says. "Which I do not."

"Maybe I'm the only one who got the memo." Aria says shortly and frowns when he doesn't pick up on her very obvious vibes.

"Aria…" Ezra tries again. "I'm making an effort, here."

"I didn't ask you to," Aria replies. "I thought I made it very clear-"

"And I thought that after the whole Alison thing that maybe you'd changed your mind-"

"Really? And you want to be here for me for moral support?" Aria asks. "Or do you want to be here to get more material to help sell your book?"

"Aria, that's not fair." He sighs. "You know I'm not even writing it anymore-"

"Oh that's too bad," Aria shoots back. "I was going to buy every copy. I couldn't _wait_ to have you autograph the chapter you wrote about me."

Ezra frowns. "I took that part out."

"How _noble_ of you."

"Aria, it's not like-"

"It's not like you ever would've told me about it if I hadn't found out."

"No, that's not what I was-"

"Can you just stop? There is nothing that you can say that would make this any better." Aria says. "I'm just trying to have a peaceful afternoon. Can't you just give me that?"

Ezra glances at the glossy cover of the book she's ducked back into and asks, "Sylvia Plath? That's dark. She was a tortured soul, that's for sure."

"I know how she feels," Aria says without looking up. "Some of these words, some of these poems… It's like she's written about my life."

Ezra starts at this comment, shaking his head, "That's alarming, actually. Have you thought about talking to someone about this?"

"Hey," A new voice enters the conversation and when they glance up, Jason DiLaurentis is walking by, eyes narrowing suspiciously at Aria's company. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah," Aria smiles gratefully at him, relieved at his appearance despite the confusion on Ezra's face. "I'm fine. Ready to go?"

"I was going to ask you the same question." Jason grins and then eyes the man beside him. "This guy bothering you?"

"No. Not anymore." Aria tells him. "Let's get out of here."

"Wait," Ezra shakes his head. "What's going on? Where are you going?"

"She doesn't have to answer to you, man." Jason replies and Ezra frowns, opening his mouth to emit an angry response as Aria cuts him off just in time.

"Here," Aria says instead, tearing a page out of the book for him to keep. "This one reminds me of you and I."

With that, she packs up her things and leaves with Jason, Ezra left behind to read over the doomed, tragic words Sylvia Plath has used to unknowingly describe their failed relationship:

 _I desire the things which will destroy me in the end_.

* * *

She tears through the water as clean as a hot knife through butter. Paige is in the lane beside her, trying to match her stride for stride, but Emily's moving much too fast and she cannot keep up.

This is good, this is natural, this _feels right_. She breathes so quickly in between each stroke, it's almost as if she's become one with the water. She's fifteen feet away and then ten and then five and then her hand meets the cool, slimy tile of the end of the pool, where she easily upends and launches herself back across the length of the pool, her arms cutting through the rippling water, her legs propelling herself forward. Emily cannot focus on anything anymore; she's distracted, out of it, not all there. But this… This feels like coming home. This feels like it always has- liberating, unrestricted, _ordinary_. If she channels all her fear, all her pain, all her rage into her swimming, then perhaps there really isn't anything she can't accomplish. She'll get this all out of her system and then she'll find Ali and they'll all be able to move on.

She surfaces at the other end of the pool, breathing hard, and tears off her swim cap and goggles. A full minute or so later, Paige does the same, and she can barely breathe, asking, "Are you made of steel? _Damn_. I cannot keep up with you anymore."

"You never could," Emily replies teasingly, enjoying the feeling of her heart clambering against her chest for a reason other than fear for once. "You were always my biggest competition but I almost always beat you."

"Wow, you're in a mood." Paige smirks and she, too, pulls off her cap and goggles. "You want to go grab some food? That took a lot out of me and I'm _starving_."

"No, I think I'm going to hit the gym." Emily shakes her head, climbing out of the pool and reaching for her towel. "It's open late tonight and I need to get some strength training in."

"The gym? How are you alive right now?" Paige asks, following her lead and wrapping a towel around her torso, her breathing still labored. "Seriously, I don't get how you aren't dead."

Emily grins and pulls a t-shirt over her head. "I ask myself the same question everyday."

"Well at this rate, you're going to be." Paige replies. "Come on. Let's go back to my place and order a pizza."

"Can't." Emily replies and tosses her gym bag over her shoulder. "I'll call you later."

"Will you?" Paige asks and, at the door, Emily hesitates. "Don't shut me out, Em. I know you're going through a lot. I want to help you. Please just talk to me."

Emily sighs. "I'm not shutting you out. But trust me, the less you know the better."

"That's what you _always_ say!" Paige exclaims. "And that still has failed to prove true. We've been in this together for so long now; with –A and with Alison and-"

"And it's my fault that I dragged you into this in the first place." Emily cuts her off. "You didn't need this added stress and I'm sorry."

"That's not what I'm worried about." Paige shakes her head. "I care about you and you know that. You're not going to be able to do all of this alone. Let me help you!"

"Help me with what? I'm fine! We're all fine!" Emily shouts back and turns in the doorway. "I'm going to the gym. I'll call you later."

Paige calls after her, "You're going to kill yourself if you're not careful."

"I'll call you later," Emily repeats and she's gone.

She overdoes it at the gym and wakes with sore muscles. She forgets to call Paige and wakes with an aching heart.

* * *

It's 3:42 a.m.

She blinks. And stares. And stares a bit more.

Now it's 3:43 a.m.

She blinks again. Rolls over. Yawns a bit, eyes watering, then rubs her eyes. Rolls in the other direction. And stares again.

Now it's 3:44 a.m.

Hanna pushes some hair out of her face and off of her neck, relishing in the feeling of the cool night air on her sweaty skin, turns her face into the pillow and does not sleep. It's been weeks and weeks of this and she's wondering if there will ever be a time when she'll be able to close her eyes and _not_ see Alison at the bottom of a grave, Alison running for her life, Alison becoming a murder victim to a faceless suspect. She wishes for the sweet release of sleep, to slip off into dreamland and not return for at least several days. Hanna heaves a sigh and wonders if the others are just as tortured as her; Spencer's still shuffling from class to class and trying to come up with a grand scheme, Emily's still determined as hell to find Alison and bring her home and Aria's still expressing how crazy this whole thing is while also trying to keep the peace among the several differing personalities she's interacting with. Surely, she can't be the only one suffering from sleepless nights and overwhelming nightmares. Surely, she can't be the only one slowly descending into madness.

She squeezes her eyes shut and counts to three hundred and forty-seven. Cracking one eye open, she glances at the clock at her bedside. The numbers glow red- 3:58 a.m.

She's become a raging insomniac.

Every time Hanna thinks she's close to sleep, her body will jolt awake like a bait and switch, an April Fool's joke, and her heart will race dramatically like she's just been pushed off a cliff. She'll smell blood and fresh earth, hear muffled screams and the sound of rocks colliding with bone, and see the look of terror on Alison's face before her eyes fly open and take in her surroundings and no sleep is ever had. It's painful and it's frustrating and nothing is more irritating than lying in her bed, so exhausted she can barely see straight, but unable to fall asleep. She tries everything- warm bath, chamomile tea, boring movies and books, lullaby music made for children, white noise from a sound machine she hasn't seen or used since her childhood- and nothing seems to help. She lies here, sleepless, from sundown to sun up and cannot catch a break.

It's 4:12 a.m. when she contemplates calling him.

Caleb's been living in Ravenswood for about six months now and she's still pretty pissed at him for it. The decision had been so out of the blue, so spur of the moment, and it still doesn't sit well with her. They'd reconciled to a point; i.e., they speak every now and then and usually, he initiates it and she usually ends it. But she feels almost like a piece of her is missing now that he's gone. It's like he's taken her heart, her whole, entire heart, and placed it somewhere out of reach, somewhere hidden, and left her to walk around with a perpetual hole in the center of her body. She misses him, sure, and she still loves him; Hanna's not sure that'll ever change. But she feels sort of hollow without him here, empty, like everything she's feeling is passing through her without ever really sticking and taking hold in the first place. On top of everything she's been dealing with lately, _feelings_ are certainly not her top priority right about now.

It's 4:39 when she decides not to call him and 4:42 when she reaches under her bed for the forgotten bottle of beer she'd stashed there, just in case.

She drinks and does not sleep and the sun rises outside her window. She's not sure it's a problem but she should probably cut back. That is, if she cared enough to do so.

In the morning, she sits down at her vanity and begins to cover the deep, dark circles under her eyes with concealer. It's just another day.

* * *

She's not herself. She feels like she's walking underwater. She's losing control of her life and she doesn't know what's real and what isn't.

 _Just like last time_.

And no one sees, no one notices, no one bats an eyelash as she slowly descends into the hormonal, zombie-like, Hulk-rage monster the pills brought out in her the last time. Not one single person asks if she's okay. Not one single person even notices anything is different.

Except for him.

In her haste to leave his apartment after a heated argument, she'd grabbed her opened purse and stumbled- the pills always made her clumsier and angrier- and the little plastic container had rolled onto the floor with all of her other belongings; the top hadn't been on and the tiny white capsules spilled all over the room. And she stared at them, wide-eyed and unsure of what to do next, and he stared at her, disbelief in his eyes, because he'd known there was something off about her lately, she could sense it in every word he said, but she knows he'd never expected it to be this. And all he'd said was her name and she'd collapsed onto the floor, burying her face in her hands, shaking her head in shame. She couldn't face him. She couldn't even look at him. She's a fuck up. She's a giant, rampant, uncontrolled fuck up who can't keep her life together and this boy- _this poor boy_ \- always has to be her clean up crew.

Toby kneels down beside her after a moment and collects her in his arms and she doesn't know what's happening but she feels like she's going to be sick. Shouldn't he be yelling at her right about now? Shouldn't he be asking her a million questions? Shouldn't he be berating her for, you know, her _blatant drug use_? He doesn't. He wraps both of his arms around her, drags her in until she's mostly on his lap, and says nothing. And she's glad. She's glad, because she's so incredibly upset with herself, so ridiculously embarrassed, and she can't take disappointing Toby. It's the equivalent of choking the life out of a puppy with a bike chain.

After a long silence, she finally murmurs, "I'm sorry."

He kisses her temple and asks, "Sorry for what?"

And of course, there are thousands of answers to that question; number one, of course, being that she's ever involved him in her shit in the first place. But she merely sighs and says, "That you had to find out like this."

Toby nods and replies, "Oh. Well, then, yeah, I'm sorry about that, too. I wish you could've just told me what was going on."

"I couldn't," Spencer tears away from him, suddenly feeling ugly, disgusting, unworthy. She wraps her arms around herself instead and glances at the floor, memorizing the dips and curves in the grain of wood.

Toby sighs and runs an exhausted hand over his face. "How long? How long have you been taking them?"

"A week. Maybe." Spencer bites her lip, unsure. All her days have blended together, after all. "But this isn't the first time."

Surprisingly- to her- he nods. "I had a feeling it wasn't."

"I'll stop," She pleads with him and he meets her eyes. "I'll stop taking them, I promise. I'll flush the rest of them. Seriously. I'm done and I promise you that it'll stick this time."

"Spencer, you don't have to make me that promise." Toby replies. "You have to make _you_ that promise."

She frowns but, determined, she scoops each one of the pills on the floor into her hands and retreats to the bathroom, watching as they swirl down the pipes and out of sight forever. In the doorway, Toby watches and Spencer says, "See? Done. They're gone. You don't have to worry about me."

"The ship's already sailed on that one," Toby replies, his voice heavy with emotion. "I can't help you if I don't know you're in trouble. You know that, right?"

"Yes," Spencer nods. "But I'm not. I… I lost control a little bit, but I can get it back. It's okay."

"It's not okay." Toby disagrees. "You do realize I'm not upset about you being an addict, right?"

Honestly, it's news to her. She swallows hard and asks, "Wait, you're not?"

"Spencer." He rolls his eyes and nods towards the couch. "Come over here and sit down."

She does and ends up picking at the couch cushion in an effort to occupy her mind. "I guess I just thought… My parents were so angry the first time and my friends got really judgmental and I guess… I don't know. I thought you'd see it as a deal breaker or as something unlovable about me that you couldn't look past or… Or…"

"Spencer," Toby says, taking both of her hands in his. "There is nothing about you that you could ever tell me, good, bad or otherwise, that I couldn't look past. I love you. I love every part of you. Nothing is ever going to change that. Nothing ever could."

Relief floods her veins despite the troubling look still lingering in his eyes. "You have no idea how much I needed to hear that."

"Well, it's the truth." Toby tells her. "I'm not upset that you took the pills. I'm not upset that it happened before. You're struggling and I can see that you're struggling and it's not your _fault_ that you're struggling, so this isn't something you have to be sorry for."

Her smile falters just a bit and she asks, "Then what…?"

"I'm worried about you." He replies simply. "It bothers me that you felt like you had to turn to pills instead of telling someone that you needed help. I'm with you; I'm _always_ with you. You could've talked to me or if you felt like you couldn't, you could've told _someone_. Your parents, the girls, someone at school, Dr. Sullivan… _Anyone_. Anyone would've been better than this."

Her head lowers in shame. "I know."

"You've got to realize how dangerous this could've been." Toby says. "I just want you to know that you can talk to me about this. It scares me to think that maybe you didn't know that."

"No, I did. I did, I swear." Spencer insists. "I just… I was embarrassed."

"Embarrassed about what?" He prods further. "Asking for help? Spencer, no one can handle this alone, not even you. You're pretty damn strong, but you're not a superhuman."

"I know, I just…" Spencer exhales heavily. "I wasn't even trying to make a habit out of it. I was losing focus and my grades were falling and I couldn't keep up with my schoolwork and I was trying to solve this thing with Alison… And they were only to help me focus. I swear. I wasn't trying to start something. But then one wasn't enough, so I took two and then three and then…"

"You don't have to explain yourself. Really." Toby shushes her, shaking his head. "Remember what I told you? I know who you are. You're still that person. Nothing's changed."

Her soul deflates at his words, all the stress dripping off of her in ribbons, and she collapses against his chest. "I just can't figure it out. I can't… I'm trying _so_ hard to fit everything in and it just doesn't… It's not working."

Toby presses a kiss to her crown and pulls her tight against him. "Let me help you. Please let me help you."

"I was just trying to prove myself." Her voice wavers and for the first time, she realizes how dangerously close she is to tears. "No one believes me. Ali's alive; I _know_ she is. And no one believes me."

He pulls back, braces her shoulders on either side and looks her dead in the eye. "I believe you."

The tears spill out of her eyes before she can stop them; one and then two. She swipes them away rapid-fire, but he's already seen. He pulls her back into an embrace and she closes her eyes instantly, relishing the sense of security he always brings. She feels him press unlimited kisses to her skin, every part of her he can reach, as he vows, "I will help you figure this out. I promise you."

"And I won't take anymore pills." She utters into his shoulder. "I promise _you_."

"But you'll call me if you get the urge? Or if you feel like you're hitting rock bottom again?" He asks and she nods effortlessly. "Or if the detox is so bad you need someone to hang out with you while you vomit?"

She smirks and pulls back and there's a twinkle in his eye that wasn't there before. "I won't vomit. A couple of bad headaches and maybe some mild nausea, but I've never actually vomited from them before."

"Still. Anything you need." Toby offers her and then asks, "Do you want a ride home?"

"I _want_ to stay here, but my dad's back from Philly and he'd probably flip his shit if he knew I was here with you. _Alone_." Spencer replies and together, they make their way to his truck. "He's not big on leaving us unsupervised ever since-"

"Oh, you don't need to remind me." Toby shakes his head, getting behind the wheel. "That image of his face is branded in the forefront of my mind."

She chuckles a bit and then sobers, watching as the streets of Rosewood pass by in a glance. "At least we had some good times interspersed with all the madness. That's what's always gotten me through."

He glances over at her at a red light, frowning. "Why do you sound like you're saying goodbye to me?"

"I'm not. I just…" She shrugs. "Alison was always so sure of herself, you know? She walked around here like she owned this town and everyone in it. But then she made one wrong move that cost her her life. Or maybe it didn't, but then it made it so she could never come home and all her friends would now have to suffer. I don't know. I've just been thinking a lot lately about her actions and her consequences and things she did that we are now paying for… And what if it never ends? What if this goes on for the rest of my life? And what if… What if my life ends just as abruptly as hers might have?"

Toby parks right outside her house, kills the engine and brings her body once more into his. "It's going to end. It's going to, because we're going to put a stop to it."

"It just keeps getting worse," Spencer tells him. "I want it to be over, but there's just no end in sight right now."

"Yeah, _right now_ ," Toby reasons. "But what about tomorrow? What about the next day? Or next week? Or next month? We're going to figure this out, one way or another. It's going to take time and it's going to be hell, but we're going to put an end to this and you're going to get your life back."

She glances up at him. "And Alison?"

"And Alison…" Toby trails off. "We're going to bring her home."

"You said yourself you're not convinced she's alive."

"I wasn't. Not at first." Toby agrees. "But you believe she is. And I believe you."

Spencer smiles at him, real and genuine and something her face hasn't seen in a while. "You are the best thing in my life right now and you're the only reason I'm getting through this shit with even some tiny semblance of my sanity. I love you more than words can ever possibly say."

"I love you, too." Toby professes. "I meant what I said. We're going to figure this out together. You're not alone, remember? Not now, not then, not ever."

She nods, but then the tears are back in her eyes and she tries desperately to blink them away. "You've done so much for me. I don't think there will ever be a way for me to repay you."

"You don't have to," Toby insists. "Although… You can do _one_ thing for me."

Spencer lifts her head, prepared to leap from a bridge if he asks. "What?"

"Talk to me." Toby pleads. "Don't shut me out. Don't keep secrets from me. Please, _please_ , just talk to me."

She can't deny his beautiful face, his loving smile, his concerned eyes.

Against her better judgment- _keep Toby safe_ \- she opens her mouth and the words flow freely.


	3. Three

**Hello again! I'm back with chapter three after editing this beast for like a week. I'm still not 100% happy with the outcome but I don't want to look at it anymore. I'm releasing it into the world so we'll see what happens next. Thank you to each and every one of you who read and reviewed and favorited and followed and all that jazz since we last saw each other last week. It means so much to me, you have no idea. I never expected for you all to take to this old storyline so quickly and with such wonderful, encouraging words. It seriously means the world to me to have supporters like you. :D**

 **Alright, I'm out for a bit. Thank you, again, for reading and especially so if you choose to review. I love you all dearly and I hope you enjoy this next installment!**

* * *

Three

"Here then at long last is my darkness. No cry of light, no glimmer, not even the faintest shard of hope to break free across the hold." – Mark Z. Danielewski, " _House of Leaves_ "

 _Stop looking or you'll end up just like her. –A_

"'End up just like her'?" Aria asks, glancing at each of the three girls surrounding her. "Like… _dead?_ "

"No, because she's alive," Emily shakes her head. "Is –A threatening to run us out of town too?"

"Sounds like it." Hanna shrugs. "She doesn't have to run me out, at this point. I'm one death threat away from hopping the next flight to Belize."

"You don't speak Spanish."

"I can learn."

"You want to learn Spanish? You want to run away?" Spencer asks. "Or do you want to figure this thing out and stop acting like the scared little girls –A thinks we are?"

Hanna's eyes widen. "Whoa."

"Yeah, Jesus Spencer, calm down." Aria replies. "I mean, obviously we want to figure this out and bring Ali home in the process, but it's been two years and we're about as close to the end now as we were when this whole thing started."

"We have nothing but empty theories and signs pointing towards sketchy-but-not-completely-guilty people," Emily adds. "But if you've got an idea or a plan, go ahead."

"No. I'm as burnt out as you are." Spencer says. "But _she_ made our lives hell for over a year. And just because someone stole the game from her, doesn't mean she isn't still involved."

The others glance across the hallway, where Mona is struggling to stuff two very large textbooks into her tote, and Hanna asks, "Mona? Are you serious?"

"Hey, this all started with her. Who's to say it won't end with her?" Spencer shrugs. "If we want some inside scoop, I say we go to the source."

Hanna inhales a deep breath and stalks across the hall, the others at her heels. Mona succeeds in slipping one of the texts into her bag, but fumbles with the larger of the two and it ends up slamming to the ground with an echoing smack. She sighs and crouches to the floor, but before she can retrieve it, Hanna steps forward and anchors it to the ground with her heel. Mona's eyes rise to meet her friend's, and she smiles. "Han, please! Your $300 Louboutins deserve much better than my AP physics book. We are not worthy."

Hanna glances at her feet and steps off the book, asking, "How'd you know?"

"Hello? I was with you when you bought them on clearance in the city. _Duh_." Mona rolls her eyes and scoops her book into her arms, standing and only then noticing the cavalry behind the blonde. "Hail, hail, the gang's all here. To what do I owe the honor?"

"Drop the act. We're here to talk, not to play nicey-nice." Aria warns her. "We came here for answers. We don't need any more of your lies."

"My, my, my, how testy we are this morning." Mona shakes her head as the bell rings. "I'd love to stay and chat, but I've got physics and Newton's laws aren't going to learn themselves, so…"

"You'll be fine. You've been spouting off that intelligent nonsense since you could walk," Hanna puts in. "We need to talk. It's important."

"As important as the future you're making me sacrifice so you can involve me in whatever drama you've gotten yourself into this week?" Mona asks. "No, I think I'll just-"

"'You'll just' nothing," Spencer stops her. "The only reason we're in this mess is because of you, so you're going to shut up and listen to what we have to say and when we're done, you're going to give us answers to the questions we ask because we are so done putting up with your shit."

Mona frowns as the second bell rings. "We're supposed to be in class."

Spencer purses her lips. "You'll live."

The hallway empties, classroom doors bang closed and soon, it's just the five of them, the four girls circling Mona like sharks about to attack. She rolls her eyes and opens with, "Well what do you want me to say? –A's still after you? She's not going to stop? She's holding Ali's capture over you like some cat toy and laughing every time you try to reach it? You know all of that already."

"But there's a lot we don't know and you know it." Emily says. "Now drop your 'I don't know anything,' doe-eyed demeanor and tell us how you're going to help us end this."

"Me? Help you end this? Are you out of your mind?" Mona asks. "I want no part in this."

"No," Aria shakes her head. "No you don't get to say that. You don't get to say that when you spent almost two years ruining our lives. You don't get to say that when you hit Hanna with your car or threw Toby off of scaffolding to scare the shit out of Spencer or put human growth hormone in Emily's pain medication so she couldn't swim anymore. You don't _get_ to decide that you're suddenly out of the picture, that you're not involved, when we wouldn't be in this disaster if you hadn't started it. You don't get to turn around and play the victim when you've always been the attacker. You don't _get_ to and we won't let you."

Mona stares at Aria, _hard_ , before her gaze slides to each of the others. "And what do you expect from me? What do you want me to do? In case you hadn't noticed, I'm _not_ calling the shots anymore. And trust me, I've been paying for what I've done every single day."

"I want you to get your shit together." Spencer says plainly. "I want you to find out who this is and I want you to help us bring them to justice."

"Yeah," Emily nods. "And help us bring Alison home."

"That is the last thing Rosewood needs right now." Mona snorts. "We do not need to bring Alison home."

"Do you know if it's true?" Hanna asks. "Do you know if she's still alive?"

Emily wonders, "Have you seen her?"

"Of course! We've all seen her! This whole thing was probably an elaborate ruse she created to add some flavor into her boring, monotonous life. She was always doing that; you guys _know_ this." Mona exclaims. "But just because it caught up to her in the end, just because she messed with the wrong person one day, doesn't change the fact that she was a terrible person. When someone dies, everyone suddenly wants to see them through rose-colored glasses and completely ignore the things they did when they were alive, but just because you don't acknowledge them or try to forget them doesn't mean they aren't there. She made my life a living hell; she made _your_ lives a living hell, every single one of you. So don't try to pretend like she's this saint who's just trying to come home so she can go to prom and graduation. Don't pretend like she's a good girl who had something really bad happen to her. She's a snake. She's toxic. And honestly… She got what she deserved."

She turns to go, but Emily catches her arm, whirling her back around. "And what if it was you? What if it was you who messed with the wrong person one night and got yourself kidnapped… or worse? You've done some pretty shitty things in the past few years. Alison might not have been a saint, but neither are you, so would you deserve it? Would you be 'getting what you deserved'? Wouldn't you want someone out there who could help you? Who could bring you home and make sure your torturer was put to rest? Would you still feel the same way you're feeling now? What if it was you?"

"Don't you get it? It _is_ me!" Mona replies wildly. "I have no say anymore! I have nothing! I don't know who she is; I've never seen her face! I can't help you! I don't know _anything!_ "

Hanna notes, "You're scared."

" _Shitless_ ," Mona replies. "She wants me dead. She wants _all of us_ dead. I don't know who she is- I don't even know if she's a she- but I know that this is going to end with one or all of us in body bags. So… I'm sorry. I don't know anything and I can't _help_ you, but I wouldn't even if I did. I'm not dying for you guys so that you can have some peace of mind. That's not going to happen."

"But if you know _anything_ ," Spencer tries again. "Seriously, anything helps. We've got nothing. A name, an address, a phone number-"

"Spencer, she just said she doesn't know-"

"And I don't believe her, okay?"

"What do we have here?"

All five heads snap up to find the stern gaze of Mr. Davis, a history teacher, and immediately Hanna offers, "We were just heading to the restroom."

"All five of you?" He asks without a single change in tone. "Together? At the same time?"

"Well yeah. Can't help when nature calls right?" Hanna shrugs. "And anyway, girls always go to the bathroom in packs, didn't you hear? That was, like, the sole subject of standup comedy in the nineties-"

"Save it, Miss Marin. This is the third time you've skipped sixth period this week." Mr. Davis shakes his head and reaches for his back pocket for a pad of detention slips. Nodding towards Mona and Spencer, he adds, "And, honestly, I would've expected better from the two of you."

Aria nudges Emily, whispering, "Ouch."

"Yeah," Emily murmurs in response. "I guess when you're not a straight-A student you're completely worthless."

"Detention. All of you. 3 p.m." Mr. Davis replies, handing each of them a slip. "And I'm the head this afternoon, so I will personally see to it that all five of you are in attendance."

He stalks away, but not before ushering them out, too. "Class. _Now_."

"Well," Spencer sighs, glancing at her pink slip. "Never seen one of these before."

"Yeah, how come you're not freaking out more?" Aria teases. "Would've expected you'd be a ball of stress by now."

"Come on, she's always a ball of stress." Emily smirks. "Why would getting detention change that?"

"Oh you guys are hilarious, really," Spencer rolls her eyes. "This isn't going to go on my permanent record, is it?"

"Ah, yes, there she is," Hanna smirks. "Come on. I've got a Spanish test to fail."

"Oh, funny," Aria grins. "I've got one of those in English."

"You? Fail an English exam?" Spencer implores. "Wasn't that your best subject?"

"Yeah, but that was back when she was dating the English _teacher_." Emily reminds her friends, who chuckle as Aria frowns.

"Wow. Not cool."

"Come on, we're joking. You know we don't think you-"

The recognizable chime of each of their phones rings into the empty hallway and with it brings the all-too-familiar feeling of dread within each of them. They share a glance as Hanna asks sardonically, "I wonder who that could be?"

Spencer frowns. "Only one person."

 _Mona's not biting, but throw me the line. Tonight's the night it could all come to an end. After all, the enemy of my enemy is my friend. –A_

"Yeah. That's what we are." Hanna snorts. "Friends with this bitch."

"I am so not in the mood for a showdown tonight." Aria shakes her head. "I don't know what she's expecting, but we can't just-"

"And does she expect us to go against Mona?" Emily wonders. "Because she's terrible, but she hasn't done anything lately to warrant-"

"I mean what does she expect? That we just show up, blind, and hope she doesn't murder us like she might have done to-"

"And on top of that, it's not like we can just go gallivanting all around town like we're some kind of-"

"Spence?" Aria asks. "You've been quiet. What's up?"

"No. Nothing." Spencer shakes her head and takes off down the hall. "It's nothing. I'll see you in detention."

And when she does, hours later and after thoughts of Mona, Alison and –A have marinated in her brain all afternoon, Spencer leans across her desk and whispers, "We have to go along with it. We have to do what –A says."

" _What?_ " Hanna shrieks. "That's crazy!"

"Miss Marin," Mr. Davis booms into the silent room. "Quiet. This is your first warning."

Hanna narrows her eyes but keeps her mouth shut. Aria murmurs, "No, I'm with Hanna on this one. You want to do what –A says? You want to just… give in?"

"I don't see it as giving in," Spencer disagrees. "I see it more as following directions."

"Directions? Like from a GPS leading to the highway to hell?" Emily asks and Spencer rolls her eyes.

"Think about it!" Spencer says. "Every time we try to unmask –A, we always go after her. We try to fight fire with fire and we always get burned. What if she's trying to be civil? What if she wants us to do something specific and we always ruin it because we're always trying to fight her? Obviously we're not on her side here; obviously we want this to end and she's been absolutely horrible to us _and_ to Ali. But what if instead of fighting her with all we have, we fight her with peace?"

"Ooh, right, we learned about this in history," Hanna nods. "Civic disobedience. It's what Gandhi taught."

" _Civil_ disobedience," Spencer corrects. "But yeah. That's the idea."

"So you're suggesting we follow her directions," Emily lists. "And when we get there, what happens? She's so impressed, she unmasks herself? Gives a full confession? Leads us to Ali and turns herself in?"

"Well no, I don't expect that." Spencer counters. "We'll have a back up plan in case things turn sour and she catches on."

"In case? You mean _when_." Aria says. "And what is this back up plan?"

Spencer bites her lip. "I haven't quite figured that out yet."

"Great."

"Well, I don't see any of you contributing!"

"I've got nothing! _You're_ the smart one!"

"Come on," Hanna exclaims. "Spencer can't fight all our battles for us!"

" _Miss Marin_ ," Mr. Davis hisses. "That is enough. This is your _second_ warning."

"Here's what we're going to do," Spencer explains quietly. "We're going to take –A's bait. We're going to follow her lead. She wants us to run? We run. She tells us to jump? We jump. She asks us to run across town naked with a bomb strapped to our chests, we do it, because that's how we earn her trust. She's in a weirdly trusting place right now and we're going to exploit that for all it's worth."

Hanna grins. "I like your plan, Spencer."

"But," Spencer adds. "We're going to need some leverage. We're going to need some insurance. We're going to need some kind of proof. And… And I think that's where Caleb comes in."

The grin slides off Hanna's face. "You need a new plan, Spencer."

"No, hear me out," Spencer shakes her head. "You know that GPS tracker he-"

"Spencer, _no_ ," Hanna insists. "I'm not involving him in this."

"Come on, Hanna, if it's the only way we can maybe put an end to this-" Emily reasons, but Hanna cuts her off.

" _No_." She's adamant. "He made it very clear he wanted nothing to do with all of this when he moved to Ravenswood, didn't he? Well he can stay out there for all I care. I don't need him and neither do any of you."

"Hanna," Aria pleads. "He can help us with-"

"Can he? Is it really him that you need or is it just his _stuff_?" Hanna accuses. "Spence, your boyfriend's a cop. Why can't you ask him to help? He can patrol the area, keep tabs on us, call in for backup if –A tries anything-"

"Toby? Are you kidding me? I'm not getting him involved in this." Spencer shakes her head. "He could get hurt. He could lose his job, Hanna!"

"Okay, Aria." Hanna shrugs. "Jason's been involved in some shady shit in the past. You want to enlist his expertise?"

"Are you insane?" Aria hisses. "We've been dating for like ten minutes. The last thing I want is to get him roped into all of this!"

"Well," Hanna smirks. "There you go. Perfectly easy to throw _my_ bed buddy under the bus, but when it comes to yours-"

"Okay, not fair, what does Toby have to do with-"

"Might I point out that Jason and I have been on precisely three dates and are definitely _not_ bed buddies yet, _and_ you and Caleb aren't even together anymore, and-"

"Um," Emily cuts them off. "You didn't bring up mine."

"Okay, no offense, Em. You know I love Paige and I'm glad she makes you happy." Hanna says. "But she's a coward. What could she possibly bring to the table?"

" _Hanna!_ "

"Are you telling me I'm wrong?"

"That was completely uncalled for and-"

"That was really harsh and unnecessary, Han-"

"Oh come on, I'm _just_ making an observation here-"

" _Ladies!_ " Mr. Davis shouts and they fall completely still. "Miss Marin, I have had it! Separate!"

Hanna purses her lips, gathering her belongings and glaring at Spencer. "Way to go."

Spencer frowns. "We'll talk about this later."

Pushing back her chair, Hanna stands, crosses the room and sinks into the desk closest to the door. She doesn't so much as glance in her friends' direction for the rest of the afternoon.

* * *

"You called him?!"

"Hanna, will you please just-"

"You _called_ him?"

"I wasn't trying to-"

"I asked you not to involve Caleb and you _deliberately_ -"

"He isn't going to get hurt! He's not even really going to be involved! We just need his expertise on-"

"That doesn't change the fact that you went _behind my back_ and-"

"With these two squabbling like the cat and the canary all the time, it's a wonder we get anything done." Aria rolls her eyes. "Guys, shut up. Spencer, you need to be more considerate of your friends' feelings, especially when doing something you know they don't want you to do. Hanna, get over yourself. Unless you can come up with another or a better plan, I suggest you just listen to Spencer, because that's all we've got."

"Wow," Hanna crosses her arms over her chest. "Thanks mom."

"I'm still not really sure I understand what the plan is anyway," Emily points out as they walk up the pathway to Spencer's house. "I mean, we're just going to… take her orders? Destroy our own lives?"

"No, that's not really how it works." Spencer shakes her head. "Look, most of my time on the –A team is kind of a blank because, let's face it, I was still… _recovering_. But honestly, she works in a kind of 'you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours' system. When I proved myself worthy of her trust, she rewarded me. And I think that if we do what she says…"

"She'll reward us with her identity?" Emily asks. "Or with Alison? I'm kind of lost. What are we focusing on, here?"

"I don't know." Spencer shrugs. "Anything, at this point. Anything we can get. We're grasping at straws."

"We're burnt out." Aria agrees. "She could give us a lock of Ali's hair and I'd be happy."

"Ew." Emily scrunches her nose. "In what way would that not be creepy?"

"It would prove she's still alive."

"Would it?"

"Oh great." Hanna frowns as they approach Spencer's front door. "There's an ex-boyfriend of mine on your doorstep."

"Hanna, come on." Spencer pleads. "I thought you said you two had worked through things and that you were friends?"

"Sure," Hanna replies. "But does that mean I have to see him? Doesn't he have some random girl he needs to help back in Ravenswood?"

"Mm, yeah, she's over it alright," Aria teases and Hanna shoots her a glare.

"Hey guys." Caleb nods at each of them, his eyes lingering on Hanna just a bit longer. "I take it I'm still not going to get any information on what you're going to do with this stuff?"

"Yeah. I mean, honestly, it's best if you know nothing." Spencer agrees. "But thank you. We'll return it in the same condition we're getting it. Promise."

"Yeah, you better. That stuff costs more than I make in a week." Caleb says and hands her a box that rattles upon impact. There's a smaller box at his feet and he motions toward it, asking, "This was here when I got here. There's no address. Do you want me to stick around while you open it in case…?"

"No. No, it's fine." Spencer shakes her head. "Probably Melissa's. She's a compulsive order…er."

Caleb eyes her. "Right."

"Thanks." Hanna speaks up and their eyes lock. "For helping. We shouldn't have asked but we appreciate it. Really."

"Ask anytime. Really. That's what I'm here for. You know that." Caleb tells her. "I want to help you. You guys are doing so much on your own; it might be nice to have an extra set of hands."

"Sure. It might." Hanna shrugs. "But I don't really think I want to drive to Ravenswood every time I need them."

"Well I should probably get started with the setup here." Spencer announces and takes off into the house, unable to bear the awkwardness.

Emily nods. "Yeah. Spence, I should help you with that."

Aria agrees, "I'm here, too. Moral support."

Hanna shoots them a look full of daggers as the door leading to the kitchen closes behind them. Emily says, "Wow, I do not ever want to be the one betraying Hanna."

"Yeah, that girl can hold a grudge like no other." Spencer agrees, lifting Caleb's box onto the kitchen counter and inspecting the mysterious smaller one even further. "Can't say I totally blame her, though."

"Yeah, I mean we all know what it's like to be betrayed by the one we love the most." Aria nods. "We've all been there."

Emily nods, too, and steps closer to Spencer, whose brow has furrowed as she turns the box over and over in her hands. "Who do you think it's from?"

"Who else?" Spencer asks and swipes some dirt off the bottom. "There's some writing there, look. It's tiny; I can barely-"

"Well, so much for never having to see him." Hanna announces, entering the room with a slam of the back door. "He's moving back here."

"Well that's good, isn't it?" Emily asks. "He's doing it for you, right?"

"I don't know. I can't think about that right now." Hanna exhales. "Makes me wonder why I quit drinking…"

Aria shoots her a pointed look and Hanna throws up her hands in defense. "I'm not going to start again! Chill! Besides, Spencer and I have a pact. She's going to stay off the pills, I'm going to stay away from the alcohol."

"That's not exactly how the conversation went," Spencer says. "But we're both clean and that's what matters."

Hanna nods and comes to join them at the counter, gesturing towards the smaller of the two boxes to ask, "Figure out who it's from yet?"

"Oh it's definitely from our new frenemy." Spencer states. "But the writing's too small. I need… Hold on."

She disappears down the hall and there's a sound of clanging and banging in the hall closet before she returns with a magnifying glass. Hanna rolls her eyes. "Of course you have one of those."

"Come on, what kid didn't?" Spencer asks. "How did you inspect bugs and perform science experiments without one?"

"Um, I didn't." Hanna replies. "I played in Barbie's dream house like a normal kid."

" _Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death_ ," Spencer reads aloud, glass up against cardboard. " _I will fear no evil_."

"Okay," Aria nods. "-A's getting biblical."

"But she's Satan." Hanna shakes her head and Emily shrugs.

"Hey, Lucifer was once an angel, too."

Spencer uses a letter opener to slice the packaging tape on the box and the girls peel away the sides to reveal a slip of paper and dozens of packaging peanuts. Aria smirks. "Honestly, she could've just used an envelope and saved money."

Hanna asks, "What does it say?"

Spencer shakes her head as Emily unfolds the slip. "There's got to be something else in here."

" _Then I saw when the Lamb broke one of the seven seals, and I heard one of the four living creatures saying as with a voice of thunder, 'Come'_ ," Emily reads and from the bowels of the box, Spencer produces a white wooden horse, its rider wearing a crown and a cape and carrying a bow and arrow. " _I looked, and behold, a white horse, and he who sat on it had a bow; and a crown was given to him, and he went out conquering and to conquer._ "

"Okay, the English version, please." Hanna says when Emily's finished. "Bible study is the reason I hated Sunday school."

"It's the first horseman of the apocalypse," Spencer explains. "It's generally referred to as Conquest."

"Oh. _That's_ reassuring." Aria replies sarcastically. "Feeling good about your plan now, Spence? She's going to take us down."

"The apocalypse?" Hanna asks. "So she's literally going to destroy us and end our world?"

"It seems that way, yeah."

"Fucking _fantastic_."

"Okay, _again_ ," Spencer narrows her eyes. "If you have a better idea, now would be the time to bring it up."

The others share a glance but remain silent. Spencer continues. "Seriously, you guys always expect me to have the answers but then criticize me when I give them to you or when they're something that you don't want to hear."

"I'm sorry." Aria's the first to cave. "We _have_ been really hard on you. We've expected a lot from you without really contributing in return."

"Yeah," Spencer nods. "Tell me about it."

"I guess…" Emily trails off before gaining her strength. "I don't know, you kind of slipped into Ali's role once she was gone and she was always our leader, so-"

"Oh my god." Spencer shakes her head. "Do _not_ compare me to her."

"No, I think what Emily means is that you're both natural born leaders." Hanna explains. "But none of us should've exploited that. And I'm sorry; _we're_ sorry."

A smile tugs at Spencer's lips but before the sentiment can stay, their phones buzz and chime into the late afternoon and instead, she says, "Well. Here we go."

" _It's game night, ladies. What should we play?_ " Emily reads. " _Twister? Taboo? No. How about Clue?_ "

" _Hanna, you get the weapons. Go ahead, figure out which one. A knife? A rope? A candlestick? Or how about a gun?_ " Hanna reads and scrolls through the accompanying photos. "Oh, how nice of her. She sent me a key."

" _Aria, my dear, now you get the where. Come on and guess- which of these has a body in there?_ " Aria reads her message next and her photos include a host of buildings, public and private around Rosewood. "Oh my god. This is _so_ creepy."

" _And lastly, Spencer, you'll get the victim. Take a look at these faces; don't I know how to pick 'em?_ " Spencer reads hers and her eyes go wide. Her photos include Paige, Ezra, Mona, Lucas, Caleb and Toby. "Oh my god, _no_."

" _Now I'll give you a hint, I'm obviously the who. Win the game before midnight, or it'll be you. –A_." Emily concludes. "So… Does that mean-"

"She's _sick_." Spencer shakes her head. "She's a monster."

"We're going to play her crazy murder game and if we don't get to this person before… before midnight, then…" Aria trails off. "Then-"

"Then she's framing us." Hanna finishes. "Because that's exactly what we need right now; _another_ fake murder charge."

"Okay, but we've spoken to or at least seen all of these people within the last couple of hours, right?" Emily then asks. "We _just_ saw Caleb, so we know it isn't him."

"I've been texting with Toby all day," Spencer puts in. "And Mona was in class today _and_ in detention with us."

"That's good," Hanna nods. "That narrows it down. Aria, have you heard from Ezra?"

Her eyes go wide. "Not in weeks."

She immediately sends him a text, but asks Hanna, "Han, what about Lucas?"

"I don't know." The blonde frowns. "I haven't seen him around in a while."

"Paige is California with her parents at Stanford's accepted students' day." Emily says. "But… We're not really in a good place right now, so I haven't spoken to her…"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves here." Spencer says. "She didn't say she _already_ murdered this person."

"But she hinted at it!" Aria exclaims. "Isn't that enough?"

"No, we don't know for sure." Spencer shakes her head. "For all we know, she's yanking our chain. It'll be another Dr. Sullivan situation all over again, right? So what we have to do is figure this little puzzle out and get to this person before midnight. Otherwise…"

The grandfather clock strikes six and all the girls nearly jump out of their skin. Emily says, "Guys… We have six hours. We _have_ to get moving."

Aria replies, "I will never be able to have game night with my parents again."

"Yeah, tell me about it." Hanna agrees. "Colonel Mustard in the ballroom, _my ass_."

They get to work, piecing together the information they have and trying to fill in the blanks where they're severely lacking. Hours pass, day turns to night, the grandfather clock chimes once, twice and then three times and they're still no closer to figuring out whom, where and with what. Emily tears at her hair and shakes her head, gesturing towards all the scribbled notes and the roads to nowhere and exclaiming, "We're never going to get it! We're never going to figure it out! And Paige _still_ hasn't texted me back!"

"Neither has Ezra," Aria frowns. "Han, did you reach out to Lucas?"

"I don't have his number." Hanna groans. "If one of them dies because of us… Guys, that's blood on _our_ hands. I'll never forgive myself."

"Okay, hold on. Let's go back to the beginning again." Spencer suggests for the umpteenth time. "She wants us to find the weapon first, right?"

"That's like grasping at straws." Aria replies. "We don't have anything there. You have to use process of elimination, right? But we don't even have a single clue where to look first."

"We need help." Emily says wearily. "How do we ask for a clue?"

"No. No, we _don't_ need help." Spencer suddenly announces, standing and heading for the door. "Come on. We're never going to figure anything out sitting around my living room."

"What? What are you talking about?" Hanna asks as the others follow blindly. "Where are we going?"

"Haven't any of you ever played _Clue_ before? God, I can't believe I didn't think of this sooner." Spencer shakes her head and climbs into her car, the three girls taking their seats as well, car doors shutting behind them. "You have to move around to the different rooms to try and find the possible weapon and to accuse the possible killer. You can't just stay in one place and hope to get anywhere. What was I thinking?"

"That our lives _aren't_ a board game?" Aria asks and Spencer smirks.

"Well to –A, they are." She says. "What's the first place she sent you, Aria?"

"Um, the church." Aria replies. "And Han, what are our weapon options?"

"Rope, gun, knife, and a torch." Hanna lists. "I really hope she didn't burn this person alive."

"Well, she tried to kill us that way." Emily points out. "So I wouldn't put it past her."

When they arrive outside the church, Spencer's phone chimes and she reads aloud, " _Once upon time, you almost died here by rope. Tonight, will someone else die here? Nope. –A._ "

"Okay. Okay, good." Emily nods. "The church is out. What's the next one?"

"The train station," Aria says and Spencer pulls away.

"Can we also eliminate rope as the weapon?" Hanna asks and Spencer shakes her head.

"I don't think so," She says. "She didn't say she didn't use a rope to kill this person. She just said I didn't die that way."

"This is way too much for me." Hanna decides. "I'm freaking out."

"Me too." Emily agrees. "I have goose bumps."

At the train station, it's Aria's turn to receive a message from their tormentor. " _Almost pushed off a train and it gave you a fright. But luckily, no one will die here tonight. –A._ "

"Do you think there's still a chance?" Emily asks as they climb back into the car and head back into town towards the next location. "A chance that this person is still alive?"

"Yes." Spencer is adamant. "I do. I think that if we get to them by midnight then…"

"Then she won't do it?" Hanna concludes and Spencer hesitates, but then nods. "Even though she's speaking like… Like she already has?"

"Oh my god. Oh thank _god_." Emily exhales in relief. "Paige just texted me. She's still in California. Oh god. She's okay."

"Good. Good, I'm so glad." Spencer replies. "And that's one more person we can eliminate.

Their third stop is just at the edge of town- the Rosewood campgrounds- and Hanna visibly tenses as they approach. It's pitch black and Spencer curses under her breath, suddenly irritated she hadn't thought to bring her flashlight. Climbing out of her car, the girls fumble in the darkness for a moment before Hanna receives the next text. " _Here I hit you with my car, but relax- take a breather. You didn't die here and no one else will, either. –A_."

"Nice. Let's make a joke about almost killing me." Hanna rolls her eyes. "Can we get out of here? This place gives me the creeps."

"Wait a second," Aria says. "That's three out of four that she ruled out. We have our location!"

"Which one?" Emily wonders.

"The Edgewood Motor Court." Aria announces. "I don't know why we didn't automatically assume that was it. Motels _breed_ this kind of stuff."

"Hey," Spencer remarks defensively. "It's not _that_ bad."

"Well, it's on the other side of town and it's after eleven." Emily points out. "We better go."

As they hightail it back towards the car, the beam of light from Hanna's flashlight catches something buried beneath a bush and she turns her phone towards it, curious. It's a shiny glint of metal and she steps closer, kneeling down and reaching for it. "What the-"

"Don't touch that!" Spencer shouts and Hanna jumps back about ten feet. "Oh my god. Oh my god. _Oh my god._ "

"What? What?" Aria frets as she and Emily approach the scene too, eyes wide. "Is that-?"

"Blood," Hanna fills in and shakes her head. "Oh my _god_. This is-"

"This is the murder weapon," Spencer fills in, eyeing the knife bathed in blood that shimmers dark in the moonlight. "We need to get out of here. We need to go _now_."

Scrambling back to the car, they race across the town, their sights set on the Edgewood Motor Court and hearts beating wildly against their chests. Hanna emits quietly, "Well… I guess we have the location and the weapon, now."

"It's okay." Emily says. "Really, it's okay. It's only eleven-twenty. We're going to get there way before midnight and we're going to be fine."

"And so is this person." Aria adds. "This unidentified person… Who is probably Ezra."

"Or Lucas." Hanna puts in and there is silence.

"Guys, honestly, we've been running around Rosewood for hours." Spencer says. "It could be any of those faces. I have no clue who it is. But I know that if we don't find them within the next forty minutes, they're going to die and it'll be completely our fault."

Emily shakes her head and whips out her cell phone. "I'm calling the police. I'm going to have them meet us there."

"And what are you going to tell them, Em?" Aria asks, incredulous. "That we got a tip that there maybe, could be, a murder? How is that going to help?"

"Well it's better than going in there blind!"

"Is it?"

"Yes! How many times have we gotten into _more_ trouble because we didn't ask for help?"

"And how many times have we actually asked for help and then gotten screwed over instead?"

"Honestly? I think we're pretty fucked either way, but Emily has a point. I mean, what did we think was going to happen if we just walked in there with no protection?"

"Yeah, but do you really want to be back on the police department's radar?"

"We've spent the last two years on their radar. What's one more night?"

"Guys," Spencer interrupts, putting the car into park. "We're here."

It's just after eleven thirty when they jump out of the vehicle and race across the corridors of the motel. Aria asks, "How do we know which room?"

" _Lucas!_ " Hanna calls. "Ezra? Mona, Toby, Caleb! Paige?"

Spencer stares at her, deadpanning, "Are you _really_ going to try that again?"

"Well, I don't know!"

"Wait," Emily says. "Did you guys get this text too?"

"No," Aria replies. "What does it say?"

" _The square root of four. Then what comes before. Then 2756 divided by 689_. _See you there. –A._ " Emily reads aloud. "The first number is two-"

"And one comes before two," Hanna says and then pulls a face. "And I do not have time for a math lesson. Let's just knock on 210 through-"

"Four." Spencer finishes. "2756 divided by 689 is four. The room is… It's room 214."

"Wait," Aria says. "Wasn't that the room you and Toby staked out all night thinking it was Jenna?"

"The very same." Spencer confirms and Emily frowns.

"But Jenna wasn't an option," She points out. "Do you think –A's pulling the rug out from under us at the last second?"

"Either that or it's a hint that it's Toby." Spencer says, her face draining of color. "And if it is… I can't be the one to do this. I'm going to be sick."

"It isn't." Aria assures her. "It can't be."

"You don't know that."

"We don't know _anything_ right now," Hanna says. "Let's change that."

Room 214 is smack dab in the middle of the complex and it doesn't take them long to locate it. Of course the door is locked and without missing a beat, Hanna reaches into her mess of curls, procures a bobby pin and fashions it into a hook, toying with the lock on the door for a moment or two before they hear the satisfying click and the door pushes open. They step over the threshold and nothing appears out of the ordinary. The bed is made, the lights are out, the chairs at the tiny table are pushed in. But there's a sound of running water coming from the bathroom and, anxiously, they step closer. Sirens wail in the distance and grow louder and louder as they reach for the cardboard scrim separating the bathroom from the rest of the miniscule unit. Aria reaches out blindly and flips the light switch upward and when she does, the girls gasp in shock. For there, floating in the bathtub as blood-tinged water spills over the sides, is Mona Vanderwaal, eyes wide without seeing, a stab wound through her chest. Hanna bolts out of sight and in a second can be heard retching from the other room. And in that very moment, they collectively receive a text from their tormentor.

 _If you ignore it, it'll go away. She never learns. –A_


	4. Four

**Good morning, good morning! You guys are so awesome. Thank you so much for all of those incredible reviews. Reading through them brought such a smile to my face and, as usual, left me feeling like I have the greatest reviewers on this planet. I wish you could review-reply to guests! I have so much to say to all of you! Just know that you're the most wonderful readers a girl could ever ask for. I don't know where I would be without you, believe me.**

 **I did have a good hearty laugh at some of your reactions to Mona's death, though. I'm sorry- I do realize a lot of you still like her and by now, you've probably realized that I don't lol. I'm sorry for killing her and hurting you in the process! Please forgive me. :D So... This chapter. Yeah. Some shit really starts the hit the fan, here. I hope you enjoy it. I hope it doesn't hurt you too much like the last one did. Oh, and I really, really hope you sing those -A texts like they were meant to be sung. You'll know the ones when you come across them. :P The first two are obvious, but the third is to the tune of "Reuben, Reuben" and the fourth is to the tune of "Miss Susie Had a Steamboat." Bringing you back to grade school, right? :D Okay, I'm going to go before this author's note gets as long as the chapter. See you next time! I love you all!**

* * *

Four

"I am terrified by this dark thing that sleeps in me." – Sylvia Plath, " _The Collected Poems_ "

"I'm going to be sick," Hanna keeps repeating, over and over. "I'm going to be sick."

"I'm right there with you." Emily grimaces, turning pale and away from the scene. "Did throwing up make you feel better?"

"Nothing's going to make me feel better," Hanna tells her. "Not after seeing _that_."

"I can't believe we… But we… It's not even…" Spencer sputters. "I really thought we'd make it in time. I didn't believe she'd actually do it."

"I don't know why we ever believed in her." Emily replies bitterly. "How many times has she proven she's a heartless bitch?"

"Guys," Aria calls the room to action. "We _need_ to get out of here. It's after midnight, the cops are on their way and we've touched _everything_."

"Our DNA is all over the room." Spencer echoes. "She's going to frame us just like she said she would."

"Hence my previous statement." Aria ushers them, turning off the bathroom light and heading for the door. "We need to get _out_ of here."

"Wait," Hanna says, stepping into the dark, damp bathroom and reaching for Mona's corpse. "Someone should close her eyes. She saw enough darkness in life. She doesn't deserve it in death, too."

When she steps back, Emily firmly grasps Hanna's hand in her own and together, the four broken girls make their way through the motel room of horrors and back out into the world. The moment they open the door and step out into the night, they're met with four squad cars, lights flashing electric blue and murder red. One of the sirens wails and the driver's door of the vehicle closest to them opens as Detective Linda Tanner steps out, her face stone cold and unforgiving. She steps closer to the girls and glances over her shoulder as if calling her posse forward; this simple action seems to do the trick. The rest of the cars spit out police officers left and right and soon, the girls are completely surrounded. The irony is not lost on any of them. They begin to close in on them and it isn't long before Spencer begins to feel suffocated. She spots a familiar badge in the sea of cops and the chokehold on her lungs lessens just a tad.

"Ladies," Tanner addresses them, sticking her hands in her jacket pocket roughly. "What are we doing here?"

Spencer opens her mouth to speak but finds she no longer has a voice. Hanna looks as though she's going to vomit again and Emily resembles a deer in headlights, so it's Aria who finally says, "Well… It's like Emily said. We got an anonymous tip that one of our friends was in trouble and we wanted to help her. But… But we were too late."

Tanner glances to her left, nods her head towards room 214 and the three officers charge into the room. "An anonymous tip, huh?"

"Yes." Aria nods. "That's what I said. That's what we got."

"And who might this tip have come from?" Tanner wonders as the officers on the other side of her call for backup, an ME and an ambulance.

"How should I know?" Aria shrugs. "That's the very definition of anonymous."

"What Aria means is," Emily puts in before Tanner can act on the indignant look in her eyes. "We're not sure of who the suspect could be, but they made it very clear that our friend was in grave danger and we needed to act fast to save her."

"And what were you supposed to do in return?" Tanner wonders. "Is this the first time this anonymous person has contacted you?"

"Yes." Hanna replies. "No one's ever sent us anything like this before."

Tanner eyes each of the girls before replying, "Somehow, I'm finding that hard to believe."

One of the police officers steps out of the motel room, then, to say, "Single female victim, stab wound to the upper left chest. Blood _everywhere_. Must be about seventeen, eighteen at the most. No ID, but-"

"Mona," Hanna interrupts and all eye snap to hers. "Mona Vanderwaal."

"Alright." Tanner decides. "Then we need to secure the crime scene, get a CSI unit in here _stat_ and for the love of God, O'Reilly, wear your gloves."

He hastily snaps the latex onto his hands before asking, "CSI unit?"

"CSI? Crime scene investigation?" Tanner explains and then rolls her eyes. "Like the television show? You seen that one?"

"Yeah sure," O'Reilly shrugs. "But Rosewood doesn't have one of those. Small town; not a lot of murders, you know?"

"Oh for Christ's sake," Tanner growls. " _I'll_ do it, then. You question our suspects."

"These girls?" O'Reilly balks. "Why?"

"Because they're here," Tanner replies as if it's obvious. "And I don't trust them worth a damn."

She dons a pair of gloves for herself and slips booties onto her feet before heading directly into the crime scene. O'Reilly glances at each of them before frowning. "I'm sorry about your friend. That's not something anyone should ever have to see."

"She didn't deserve it," Hanna says, shaking her head. "She didn't deserve to die like that."

O'Reilly nods with sympathy. "No one does."

Hanna hesitates before stating boldly, " _Some_ people do."

"Well… Here's how this is going to go." O'Reilly sighs. "I have to sequester each of you to talk about where you were, how you came about this text, and how you immediately responded to it. I need to hear every last detail, the whole truth, about what you've done tonight. Is that clear?"

"Yes," Emily says. "And trust me, this is not our first time."

He takes Spencer first, likely because she's been so quiet, she's assuming, and he asks her the usual questions and she gives the usual answers. Being questioned by the police has become so boring, so mundane, that it's almost a routine, now. A show, a three-ring circus; distract them with a flashy presentation, a beautifully poised tight-rope walk, and they won't notice the furious lions raging against their cages below. When she's finished, Hanna goes next, and then Aria and last Emily, and all the while, Spencer watches as police officers- including Toby and her heart aches- rush in and out of the motel room, carrying bags full of evidence and soon, the stretcher with Mona's body is rolled out in a somber black bag. She averts her eyes at this. She still cannot believe this is happening.

When all is said and done, Tanner looks almost doleful at the prospect that her colleague had yet to shake a confession out of any of them. She glances back at the scene and says, "That was absolutely gruesome. Whoever's done that has no shame. No dignity. No respect for the human race."

"That's what we've been saying this whole time." Aria agrees and Tanner purses her lips.

"You're free to go."

"Come on," Emily ushers them towards Spencer's awaiting vehicle. "We better get home. It's almost two a.m."

Spencer nods hurriedly and begins fishing for her keys just as a new officer enters the scene, immediately shaking his head. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Where do you think you're going?"

When she glances up, she meets the concerned, cool blue she's drowned in many times before, but still, she cannot find the words. Emily instead offers, "They said we could go."

"And you can, but after what you've all seen?" Toby implores. "You think I'm going to let you drive like this? Give me your keys; I'll bring you your car later. My car's the one in the back, on the right. Get in. I'll take you home."

Spencer still feels like she's walking underwater. The girls nod, thank him and head towards the squad car, but Spencer's rooted to the spot. Toby glances at her and frowns. " _Spencer_."

Something about his tone shocks her back to life and she presses the keys into his open palm, nodding rapidly. "Yeah. Okay. Thanks."

He reads her like an open book- always has- and softens the tiniest bit when he says, "I'm sorry it's a squad car and not my truck, but I'll get you home safe, okay?"

Again she nods and turns to go but not before he catches her hand and gives it a squeeze. She opens the passenger door and throws herself inside, Aria piping up from the back, "We saved you the front for obvious reasons."

If it had been a better night, Spencer might've smiled at that. Instead, all she can manage is a grimace and after a moment, Toby joins them behind the wheel. "Alright. Where to first?"

"I guess mine," Hanna says. "I live the furthest away."

One by one, Toby drops each of the girls off at their homes, waiting until they're tucked safely behind their front doors until driving off. Of course, he saves Spencer for last and she begins to tense the tiniest bit the moment he turns back into town towards her street. Glancing over, he asks, "Is it okay if I return the car first? I was supposed to clock out twenty minutes ago."

"Are you going to get docked?" Spencer asks and he smirks.

"No." Toby replies. "But that's the most you've said to me all night."

"I'm sorry." She toys with her hands. "A lot happened tonight. I didn't mean to…"

"It's okay. Really. You saw something tonight that you didn't ever need to see." Toby says. "And if you don't want to or aren't ready to talk about it, then that's okay too. But I'm worried about you and I just want you to know that I'm here for you. I don't know how to help, not with this, but I will. I'll do anything I can."

"I really appreciate that." Spencer tells him. "You have no idea what that means to me."

He pulls into the back lot behind the police station, in between two other police cars, and tells her, "My truck's in the front lot. I'll be there in ten; I just need to clock out and return the keys. Are your parents home?"

"They both are, for a change." Spencer says. "And notice how worried they are about me. Not a single call or text and it's two a.m. on a Wednesday. I could've been hurt! I could've been-"

Her voice catches and her eyes go wide. She glances away, but he's already heard the end of her unspoken sentence. _Killed. Just like Mona_. "Do you want to come inside for a minute? I don't like the idea of you hanging alone outside when there's a killer on the loose."

"Okay. Fine." Spencer agrees and they climb out together. A cool breeze tousles the trees and sends a shiver down her spine.

"I can show you my desk." Toby suggests, holding the door open for her, and she smirks.

"I've seen it." Spencer replies, shooting him the faintest of smiles. "We made out on top of it, remember?"

Toby flushes a bit and says, "Oh. Yeah. Right. I would've lost my badge if anyone had seen that."

Spencer nods, agreeing, as they come face to face with a coded door. He shuffles a bit and says, "You're actually not _technically_ allowed in here, but-"

"It's fine." Spencer says. "I'm going to go use the restroom and I'll meet you at your desk, okay?"

He looks extremely hesitant, as if he knows the torture her mind's been putting her through these past few hours- and to be honest, he probably does- but he nods and lets her go, punching in a code she doesn't recognize and disappearing behind the door. Spencer navigates the hallways blindly until she finds the women's restroom and nearly collapses in front of the sink. She can't stop seeing it- the blood-tinged water, the gaping hole in Mona's chest, the empty, lifeless look in her vacant eyes. She can hear the water lapping over the sides of the tub, the buzzing of the fluorescent lighting overhead, the flashing sirens growing louder and louder. She needs it all to _stop_. Bending forward, Spencer cups her hands beneath the cool stream of water and splashes it onto her face, shaking away any thoughts of death and destruction and despair. She can't keep going on like this. She's going to internally combust.

Blindly, she reaches for a paper towel and her hands find nothing but air. She cracks an eye open and frowns. Hand dryers. Great. From behind her, a voice calls, "I know. Those things are disgusting, right? Did you know they spread bacteria thirteen hundred times more than paper towels? I read that, somewhere."

Spencer would know that voice _anywhere_. Turning around slowly, her face still dripping wet, she comes face to face with Alison DiLaurentis, sitting cross-legged on the counter that might normally be used as a changing station. "Ali?"

"But you probably already knew that, right?" Alison replies, hopping off the counter and coming to stand beside her friend. "It seems like the kind of useless crap information that you'd know."

"I don't…" Spencer shakes her head. "How are you… Were you there? Tonight? With Mona?"

"No. I found out a little while ago." Alison says and reaches forward to wash her hands. "I never thought he'd do it like that."

"He?" Spencer implores and Alison shrugs.

"It's always felt like a 'he' to me." Alison replies. "You're close. You're a lot closer than you think."

"To what? To figuring this out?" Spencer asks. "Or to bringing you home? That's what you want, isn't it? To come home?"

Alison watches as the soap foams in her hands and runs clear down the drain. "It's what I want more than anything."

"Well, if you know anything that might help," Spencer starts. "Seriously, anything, now would be the time to mention it. We are running on fumes, here."

Shooting her that genuine, classic Alison smile, the blonde replies, "Now what kind of mystery would it be if I spoiled the ending for you?"

Spencer rolls her eyes. "Oh right, how could I forget? Your favorite phrase was ' _wait for it!_ '"

At this, though, Alison shakes her head, her smile slipping right off her face. "You can't wait. You should go. Just… Get out of here. Out of Rosewood. While you still can."

"Oh you mean run? Like you did?" Spencer accuses. "Were you ever actually kidnapped or did you make that up to gain sympathy?"

"I'm not playing with you, Spencer." Alison replies. "This is not a game anymore. If you keep this up, you're going to get yourself and everyone you love killed."

Her heart leaps to her throat. "Is that a threat?"

"From me? Seriously?" Alison shakes her head, tossing her long blonde hair over her shoulders. "It's a warning. I'm trying to _help_ you. You're my friend. And I know we think alike, so running has to have crossed your mind by now."

"We do _not_ think alike."

" _Au contraire, mon amie_ ," Alison disagrees. "We're the same, you and me. Except where we're different. I paid for my mistakes and I'm not about to let you pay for yours."

"How are you even _here_ right now?" Spencer wonders. "I thought Rosewood wasn't safe? I thought you couldn't come back?"

"I'm _not_ safe," Alison replies. "And neither are you."

She treads lightly, as if walking on a cloud, towards the doorway, pausing to say, "The game might be over, Spencer, but the war has just begun."

And with that, she's gone. Speechless, Spencer watches her go for just a moment before racing to the door and noting she's already disappeared once more. She needs to get out of this building before she completely loses it. At a quick run, Spencer heads down the hallway towards the front door, bolting for Toby's truck and beginning to pace actively in front of it. It's less than a minute later when the man in question arrives and he teases, "This sure doesn't look like my desk."

But then he steps closer, catches sight of the look on her face, and asks, "Spencer, what's-?"

She climbs into the truck the moment he unlocks it and without a word as he follows suit. He stares expectantly at her and she merely glances at him, saying, "I think… I think I'm going crazy."

"Oh Spence," Toby shakes his head. "I promise you you're not."

"I must be. I _have_ to be." Spencer says. "I don't think I ever should have left Radley."

At this, Toby tenses and his frown deepens even further. "Why not? You don't think you've recovered since your… Since-"

"Since my mental breakdown? Sure. But now I'm on the verge of another one." Spencer admits. "How am I supposed to go on like this? How am I expected to see these things and do these things… and still be a functioning human being? It's too much. It's just… It's all too much."

"Come here. Come here." Toby slides across the bench and pulls her into his arms and for the first time in what seems like ages, she allows herself to fully relax against him. His hold on her is tight and immersive and she's never felt more secure in all her life. He presses kiss after kiss against her forehead and her temple and her hair before asking, "What _happened_ tonight?"

"She sent us on a wild goose chase to try and find someone, a mystery someone, before she murdered them." Spencer explains without moving from her spot. "Little did we know that she already had and she was planning on framing _us_ for the murder."

"And why didn't you-" Toby begins but before he can finish, his phone buzzes on the dashboard in front of them and Spencer reluctantly lets go so he can answer it.

"Who would be messaging you this late?" Spencer asks and Toby shrugs.

"Could be someone trying to badger me to take their shift tomorrow. Or, I guess, today, technically." Toby says and puts the truck in reverse, beginning to back out of the spot as Spencer sits back against the seat. "Could you see who it's from?"

She takes the phone into her hands and cringes at the photo of her he's chosen as his background as he begins to navigate the way back to her house. But then, her eyes go wide and her fingers tremble, the phone almost seeming to vibrate in her hands. Toby's brow furrows as he asks, "What? Who is it?"

" _Like the hole, eh Toby? You'll be back there soon enough. Harboring a fugitive is a Class 4 felony and rest assured, you will fry for this. I'll make sure of it. –A._ " Spencer reads aloud. "No. Oh my god, _no_. She can't do that. You didn't do anything! She-"

"Spencer," He stops her rambling. "Neither did you."

"I have to do something," Spencer panics, fumbling with her seatbelt as Toby parks in front of her house. "I have to figure this out. I can't let her- I _won't_ let her touch you. You're innocent. You've never done anything wrong. You're not even involved! She can't threaten you in front of me like that and not expect-"

"Hey. Spencer. _Breathe_." Toby instructs, bracing her shoulders in both of his hands. "I am not committing a Class 4 felony because you are _not_ a fugitive, alright? You didn't do anything wrong. You're still free and if I have to sit out here, in front of your house, all damn night to make sure she doesn't come near you, then I will."

"I told you already, I don't care about me." Spencer shakes her head. "But if she thinks she can threaten your safety and _not_ get a reaction out of me-"

"Spencer, that's _exactly_ the reason she did it. And you know that." Toby explains. "Everything will work out. Everything will be fine. I don't know how yet, but it will. I'm going to help you figure this out. I told you that, remember? You are not in this alone. You have all of us. You have all of me."

At this, she throws herself into his arms and he hugs back with equal vigor. And perhaps it's the trauma from the evening or the wee hours of the morning or the exhaustion stemming from both of these, but she finds herself blurting out, "I saw Alison. Just now, at the police station."

"How?" Toby pulls back to look her in the eye. "How is she here, in Rosewood? I thought she couldn't come home?"

"I don't know." Spencer sighs, scrubbing a hand over her face. "I feel like I don't know anything anymore."

Toby eyes her before asking, "Are you planning on going to school today?"

"How can I? After what I just saw?" Spencer exclaims. "It's three in the morning, Mona's dead, Alison was in the women's restroom at the police department… And everything is so _fucked_ beyond recognition that I don't think I'll ever get my life back again."

Toby laments, "How can I fix it?"

"Just hold me." Spencer pleads and his arms are back around her without a question. "That will always fix it."

For what feels like hours, they remain perched in the truck holding onto one another for dear life and many times, Spencer's mind kicks into overdrive and reminds her that it very well could have been Toby tonight, and then even more memories are drudged up because it _was_ Toby, once; or so she thought, way back when, in the woods- a doppelganger with a matching tattoo. And she tears up several times before they release one another, but refuses to let her tears fall. She will not give in to grief and pain; not until this is over and Mona's killer and Alison's kidnapper is avenged. Toby walks her to the door a little after three a.m. looking dead tired and she's glad he has the day off to catch up on the rest he hasn't gotten tonight. They share a longing kiss at the doorway that she wishes would never end and then he's gone, into the darkness, as she lets herself into the pitch black house and up the stairs to her bedroom. Pulling one of Toby's shirts onto her frame and shimmying out of her jeans, Spencer climbs into bed, her body aching with the need for sleep. And just when she thinks she's comfortable, just when she's on the cusp of dreamland, she rolls over and there's a small cardboard box waiting on her second pillow.

She jumps nearly out of her skin and bolts upright in bed, her heart racing, as she's _definitely_ awake now. Using her thumbnail to break the packaging tape, Spencer reaches through the packing peanuts and feels a foreboding sense of déjà vu. There's a red wooden horse inside, its rider wielding a sword, and she knows this is now the second horseman of the apocalypse- the one symbolizing War. Spencer's eyes are saucers as she reads the note lying at the bottom of the box.

 _When He broke the second seal, I heard the second living creature saying, "Come." And another, a red horse, went out; and to him who sat on it, it was granted to take peace from the earth, and that men would slay one another; and a great sword was given to him._

Alison had been right; their tormentor is out for blood. Mona had merely been the beginning.

And this means _war_.

* * *

A loud clap of thunder awakens Toby from a deep, dreamless sleep and the first thing he hears as he rejoins the land of the living is the soft fall of rain against his bedroom window.

The first thing he sees, however, is Spencer, curled up against him, an arm flung across his middle in sleep, and he grins as the memories from the night prior come flooding back to him.

It's a little after nine on a Saturday morning. It's been three days since the discovery of Mona's body and somehow, Spencer has managed to find her way into his bed each night since. Toby's not sure what she's telling her parents or if they've simply stopped asking, but if this is the way his girlfriend can get an assured night's rest, then who is he to stop that from happening? He'd then come up with the idea to take her out on a date the night before to try and get her mind off of the less than pleasant circumstances currently plaguing her overactive brain and she'd smiled and laughed, _really_ laughed, for the first time in weeks. They'd gone out to dinner, up to their spot on the hill and then talked the whole way home. They'd made popcorn and watched _Who Framed Roger Rabbit?_ on Netflix and laughed until their sides hurt and Toby could see the tension easing from her shoulders, the stress melting away from her features. And they'd made love, of course, but it was after, when his brain was still a muddled pile of goo and he wasn't sure he could even remember his own name, that she'd thanked him so sincerely it made his heart ache, that she'd kissed him so tenderly it brought tears to his eyes, that she'd cuddled into him and fallen asleep, but not before confessing that she wished every night could be like this.

And he does, too. In fact, she'd once told him that he was her once upon a time and it had absolutely destroyed him in the best possible way. Last night made him all the more determined to help her end this so they could finally, _finally_ , get their happily ever after.

Carefully, he peels back the blankets and steps out of bed, taking extra care to tuck the comforter back around Spencer so as not to wake her. He finds his way to the kitchen and begins to brew a pot of coffee, yawning as the rain begins to fall a bit heavier outside. When he returns to his bedroom with two steaming mugs, Spencer's sitting up in bed, thumbing through her phone, the nightshirt of his falling off of one shoulder. She doesn't even look up when she says, "Nectar of the gods? You know me too well."

"I didn't quite make it as strong as you usually do, so maybe you won't be so jumpy today." Toby teases and she pulls a face as he sits beside her, kissing her good morning. "Although that may just be wishful thinking."

"Thank you, but coffee would never betray me like that." Spencer tells him and takes her first sip of the soothing liquid. "If I appear to be jumpy, I imagine that directly correlates to the level of torture and cyber stalking I am enduring at the moment. Not the coffee."

"Spence," Toby groans. "It is way too early for the terms ' _directly correlates_ '."

She chuckles and stands, taking her coffee with her. "Do I still have clothes here or am I wearing last night's evening wear to Emily's swim meet this morning like the walk of shame I am?"

"You have a drawer," Toby smirks and nods towards his dresser. "And there's nothing shameful about last night. You'd be the first to tell me."

"Well it's society, really, that wants to put shame and pressure on a woman for having a good time and exploring her sexual identity." Spencer explains, pulling open the bottom drawer of his dresser and sorting through the haphazardly left behind clothing of hers he's collected over the years. "If it were a man who walked down the street in the same clothes he wore the night before, he'd be praised for 'getting some.' But when it's a woman? She's scorned. Patriarchy sucks. Why can't women enjoy sex too?"

"They can," Toby chuckles. "I'm not disagreeing with you. I'm on your side, here."

"Yes, you've always been." Spencer says gleefully, turning back to press another kiss to his lips. "It's too early for a feminism rant too, isn't it?"

He shakes his head and pulls her in again. "Rant away."

They kiss feverishly for a moment before Spencer reluctantly pulls away, saying, "We should get ready. We're going to be late; the meet starts at eleven."

"I don't really understand swimming." Toby says as Spencer steps into the bathroom to change and brush her teeth. "I thought they'd already had their last meet? And Emily said something about the Stanford scout coming, but didn't she swim for them already?"

"She did. _Paige_ hasn't." Spencer explains. "They passed on Emily because she was out of practice. You can thank –A for that. But they've still got Paige in their sights. Emily thinks she's a shoe-in. So she swims for them today, she gets her scholarship. Emily's swimming for the title and the bragging rights."

"Okay," Toby says warily. "Sure."

Spencer laughs. "Just cheer when Emily swims. And clap when she wins."

"When? Not if?"

"Have you seen her, lately? Girl's on fire. She'll win."

The storm has turned into a torrential downpour by the time they hurry out to the truck and drive over to the school. Visibility is close to zero and even the short walk from the parking lot to the pool soaks them to the bone. From across the sea of faces, they spot Aria waving them over and they make their way up the bleachers to sit beside her. Conversation comes easily as they wait for Hanna and send positive vibes over to Emily, who's pacing the floor with music blasting through her iPod, in the zone. In moments, Hanna joins their little group- but she isn't alone. In fact, she's hand in hand with Caleb and Toby wonders if he's once again the last to know, but when he glances at the surprise in Spencer and Aria's eyes, he realizes that must not be the case. Regardless, he welcomes his friend with a hug as beside him, Spencer shifts to make room for the new additions.

She then murmurs, "Han-"

"Not now, okay?" Hanna hisses. "I'm giving him a second chance. We've all been through a lot."

Spencer holds up her hands in defense and Aria shakes her head, but they both remain silent. The chlorine-laden air is beginning to make Toby's eyes water and Spencer nudges his side, nodding towards the end of the bleachers, where a woman in a pantsuit sits with a clipboard. _The Stanford scout_ , Spencer explains, and Toby nods, but Paige is nowhere to be found. In fact, Emily seems to notice she's missing, too, and she's stopped pacing, stopped preparing, and has pulled her headphones out. She's gone, instead, to the bench where her gym bag rests and she's pulled out her phone, checking the screen for only a moment. Even from here, Toby can see how wide her eyes grow and Spencer must, too, for she says, "Guys. Something's wrong."

"Emily just sent me this," Aria announces, thrusting her phone forward for all to see. "It's a screen cap of a text –A just sent."

 _Rain, rain, go away! Paige just wants to swim today. Cars can't float and cars can't swim. Paige's fate is looking grim. –A_

"Oh my god," Hanna exclaims. "Why is she going after _Paige_?"

"She didn't do anything." Aria says. "She isn't even involved."

"We have to help her." Spencer decides. "We'll go to Emily and see if she's okay and-"

"She doesn't look okay," Toby points out, nodding towards the bench, where Emily is slumped forward, her face in her palms.

Without another word, the three girls tear down the bleachers and make a beeline for the fourth member of their group. "Em? Are you okay? Is Paige-"

"In the hospital," Emily croaks out, her voice muffled by her hands. "She's been in an accident. She hydroplaned and… and… Her car overturned. Her mom just called. They don't know anything yet."

"Oh my god." Spencer shakes her head. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry."

"I have to go," Emily suddenly decides, pulling off her swim cap and reaching for her tracksuit, shoving her feet roughly into her shoes. "I have to see her. If anything happens to her… God, I'll never forgive myself."

"Wait," Hanna puts in. "I'll drive you."

"She's innocent." Emily continues, tears welling in her eyes. "She doesn't deserve this! _–A_ did this to her. But… But this is all my fault."

"Em-" Aria starts but Emily cuts her off.

"No, it is! Hit us where it hurts, right?" Emily exclaims. "If I hadn't started dating her… Look, -A knows we don't care about what happens to us anymore. But to them? To the people we love? We should've known she was going to start going after them the moment she sent us that second horse."

"You're right," Spencer agrees. "-A might have won this battle. She might have hurt Paige and you in the process. But we are _not_ going to let her win the war."

Emily nods and Hanna leads her away, out of the gym and towards her car. From the stands, the Stanford scout eyes the crowd of swimmers, frowns and makes a note on her clipboard before standing and departing the pool area. Toby and Caleb descend the bleachers, joining Spencer and Aria in the hallway just outside the noisy pool as the meet begins. Toby asks, "Is Paige going to be okay?"

"We don't know yet." Spencer sighs. "She was in a terrible accident."

Caleb frowns. "Has –A taken credit for this yet?"

"I think her text was pretty clear." Aria replies bitterly. "It's just like her to try and take this away from one of us. I mean, that was Paige's _last_ shot at a scholarship and now… Now what?"

"She wanted Paige to be unhappy. And she wanted to scare Emily. It worked." Spencer says and then wonders, "Do you think she'd come back and meet with Paige privately? The scout, I mean. Maybe I could talk to her or…"

"Yeah, I think someone already is." Caleb replies and when the others look up, they find Ezra having a pleasant conversation with the woman at the other end of the hall. She laughs with her head thrown back before embracing him and bidding him farewell and Ezra turns, grinning, until he comes face to face with the four teenagers and his smile wanes.

Spencer turns to Aria to murmur, "Jackie 2.0?"

Aria ignores this and stalks up to him, asking, "How do you know her?"

"Our fathers went to med school together," Ezra explains carefully. "I've known Lauren since we were born, basically."

"Then you have to help us," Spencer blurts out and Ezra's eyes flick towards her momentarily before landing on Aria again.

"With what?"

"Paige was supposed to swim today, but she got into a terrible accident this morning, one –A caused," Aria explains quietly. "And now she's missed her chance at a scholarship to Stanford. Because of Emily and… because of us."

Ezra is quiet for a while before replying, "I can't make any promises. And if the accident truly is as serious as you're saying, it could be a while before Paige can swim again."

Aria wants to know, "But?"

"But of course I'll help you." Ezra promises. "I'll do everything I can."

She appears satisfied by the answer, but something about this guy has always rubbed Toby the wrong way. He turns to Spencer to ask, "Do we trust him?"

Spencer murmurs back, "Not as far as I can throw him."

* * *

"Hey, how come it's been a couple of days and we don't have any news on Paige's swim career?"

"Han, he's doing the best he can. Lauren's traveling the country scouting girls for Stanford. It's not like he can just meet her for a cup of coffee."

"Funny, because it seemed like, the way he put it, that's exactly what he could do."

"Well, it doesn't work that way. Back me up here, Spencer."

"I don't know, I'm kind of with Hanna on this one. Why don't we have even the slightest bit of progress yet?"

"You too, Brutus?"

"Oh come on. You could at least use the proper Latin phrasing."

"You're the one who took AP Latin, not me."

"Okay, but don't you think it would be nice for Emily to take something positive to Paige? She's been spending every waking second in the hospital with her, anyway. Some good news might brighten her spirits!"

"Yeah, I'd love nothing more than for that to happen too. But I can't rush this. Ezra is doing what he can!"

"Okay, then let me be the first to say it- Ezra is fucking useless."

"Hanna-"

"Oh don't pretend you don't back her up on this, too, Spence. You've never liked the guy."

"I haven't! But that doesn't mean I'm going to completely undermine what he meant to you."

"I'm getting a headache. I need to get some food into my stomach before it consumes itself."

"Hey ladies! Get your prom tickets before they sell out!"

This completely stops the girls in their tracks. Each clutching identical plastic lunch trays, they stare at their classmates behind the table, ornately decorated with a cloth and photos from the previous year's prom, as Aria asks, "I'm sorry, _what_?"

"Senior prom is just a month away," The student replies. "Tickets are on sale now until May 15th. Get them before they're gone!"

"There's no way it can be time for prom already," Hanna shakes her head as they make their way to their usual table in the center of the cafeteria. "It was just Christmas like two weeks ago."

"They haven't even buried Mona yet," Aria replies and Hanna frowns, suddenly disinterested in her lunch. "How can this school be in the mood for prom?"

"Why are you both looking at me?" Spencer asks. "Like I have any control of what goes on in this school?"

"Aren't you class president?"

"I am, but I'm not in charge of the prom committee," Spencer says. "They run the details by me and I okay them. End of story."

"Hey guys," Caleb greets them, taking the open seat by Hanna and kissing her in form of greeting. "Guess what I have?"

Hanna bites her lip. "Is it appropriate for me to answer that question?"

Caleb rolls his eyes and produces an envelope from his jacket pocket. "Two tickets to prom. Get your mind out of the gutter."

"Oh," Hanna nods and says, "Thanks. That's great."

"Yeah. You seem _tickled_." Caleb replies. "What gives?"

"It's not her, it's _all_ of us." Spencer explains. "There's just been a lot going on lately."

"Yeah, it's hard to get excited over something like prom when people are dying and getting into major car accidents left and right," Aria says and a gaggle of girls passes by their table, glancing at Aria quickly before turning away, barely stifling giggles behind their hands. "And, of course, doing _that_."

"What was that all about?" Hanna asks and Aria shrugs.

"I don't know, but it's been happening all day." Aria points out. "People haven't stopped staring at me or whispering behind my back or barely concealing their laughter since the moment I walked into school this morning. Does everyone know something I don't?"

"No," Spencer replies. "They just need to get a life."

"Yeah, we're the friends of the dead girl," Hanna shouts back to the next group of people that giggles in Aria's presence. "The one you all hated. You got it. Now get the hell out of my face."

"Alison?" One of the girls asks and then shakes her head. "No, she's old news."

"Yeah, who cares about her anymore?" Another girl comments before turning to Aria to say, "I get why you did it. He was _so_ hot. You're so lucky."

"She's not lucky," This girl's boyfriend sneers. "She's jailbait."

They walk away and leave Aria and the others speechless. Hanna explodes, "What the hell are they talking about?"

But Aria's eyes widen as she turns her phone towards her friends. "This."

 _Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream. If you see a pedophile, don't forget to scream. –A_

Beneath her cleverly altered nursery rhyme is a link to an article entitled, "Local Teacher Arrested Under Suspicion of Sexual Relationship with Student." Both Spencer and Hanna's mouths fall open in shock, with the former snatching the phone from her friend and exclaiming, "Give me that!"

"Oh my god. Oh my god, this is _not_ good," Aria covers her face with her hands. "What do I do? How do we get him out?"

"Um, we don't," Spencer says. "He's being charged with two counts of statutory rape _and_ child pornography charges. He's being held without bail."

"Child pornography? _Gross!_ " Hanna exclaims. "What was that guy into?"

"I don't think it was actual children, Hanna," Spencer rolls her eyes. "But anyone under the age of eighteen is considered a child by the law, so…"

"So they mean you?" Hanna wonders, glancing at a miserable Aria. "Gross! They must've found pictures of you. Did you guys take naked sex pics?"

" _No!_ " Aria shrieks. "How stupid do you think I am?"

"Well then…" Spencer shrugs. "-A must've planted them."

"And if we prove that, we could get them to drop the charges and get Ezra out, right?" Aria asks. "It's my fault he's been arrested. Oh my _god_."

"No, it's _his_ fault he's been arrested." Hanna disagrees. "He's the adult having sex with a minor, not you."

"Well, we _could_ get them to drop the porn charge," Spencer says. "But not the rape one. Say what you will about you and Ezra, but in the eyes of the law-"

"Yes, it's illegal." Aria sighs. "I know. But it's over. It's _been_ over. Why does he have to pay for our mistakes _now_?"

"Because –A wants him out of the way." Hanna says. "-A wants to _get_ to you. And she's found the perfect way to do it."

"I just wish there was a way we could figure out where the pornography charges are coming from." Spencer thinks aloud. "Because I'll bet you anything our little frenemy is the one behind it."

Finally, Caleb speaks up. "I have an idea."

"No," Hanna immediately shakes her head. "I'm not letting you get involved in this. You're not going to be the next one on –A's radar. No way."

"Come on," Caleb insists. "I can help."

"First Paige, now Ezra," Spencer lists. "She's right. You'd be next."

"Then let me be next." Caleb says. "Aria, do you still have access to his apartment?"

"No. But I think I can get it." Aria replies and at the concerned looks, she defends herself. "What? His landlady is _so_ sweet."

"If I can get access to his desktop, I can find these incriminating photos and do a reverse image search to locate the IP address that sent them." Caleb explains and the girls stare blankly at him. "Just trust me."

"Oh I do." Aria nods. "This afternoon?"

"Sure," Caleb agrees and glances at Hanna. "That okay?"

"Fine," Hanna sighs. "But if you think I'm not coming with-"

"I'd expect nothing less than the whole gang along for the ride."

"Good." Hanna nods. "I'm going to watch you like a hawk. –A will not come near you, or she'll have _me_ to deal with."

Aria smirks. "You know what, Han? You get kind of terrifying and intense and _Spencer_ about Caleb's safety sometimes and it really-"

"Hey," Spencer cuts her off. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know," Hanna grins. "But I'm taking it as a compliment."

* * *

Tensions are running higher than they've ever been.

They're sitting in her living room and she's furiously typing away at her laptop, fingers flying across the keys and hitting the space bar and backspace buttons in an aggressive fury. He watches her and wishes there were a way for him to make this all go away; he wishes there were a button he could press to right every impossible wrong in her world and wipe the slate clean so she could go on, living her life. Paige still hasn't been released from the hospital even now, days later, and Ezra's rotting away in a prison cell awaiting trial. Caleb's barely been seen since he agreed to help the girls days prior and Toby knows, just _knows_ , Spencer believes he's next. The thought's crossed his mind before, too. But he's less concerned with that and much more worried about her. She stops typing for a moment and her fingers are shaking. Toby wracks his brain for something to say, for a distraction, for a way to fix things for her, but he comes up empty.

"Let's go grab a cup of coffee," He suggests and mentally kicks himself for a full minute afterwards, because how is more caffeine going to help her already anxious mind?

But she smiles, closes her laptop and practically leaps to her feet at the offer. "Okay."

She looks incredibly relieved to abandon whatever it is she'd been working on and as they step out of the house and make their way to the truck he'd parked outside, she reaches for his hand and interlaces their fingers. It makes his insides fuzzy and warm and she's recognizable to him for the first time all afternoon. This, right here, is his girlfriend, the love of his life, his reason for existing. But she remains silent the entire drive over, slumps onto the couch at the far end of The Brew after they've ordered and thanks him quietly when he brings her the beverage, but doesn't drink it, avoiding his gaze. That familiar feeling of dread begins to creep into his veins. She's keeping something from him. She's shutting him out.

"Hey," Toby pries, nudging her side. "Everything okay?"

"Sure," Spencer nods and takes a tentative sip from her coffee. It doesn't do the trick.

"Talk to me," He tries again. "Whatever it is, we'll figure it out together, right? That's what we agreed on. That's what we promised each other."

"We can't do that," Spencer insists. "I have to do this alone."

"You don't have to do _anything_ alone." Toby disagrees. "What's going on?"

"Whatever happens next," Spencer pleads with him. "And I mean _whatever_ , please don't get involved. Please don't help, even if you want to- _especially_ if you want to. I just can't bear the thought of something happening to you and… and it being my fault. I would never, _ever_ forgive myself."

"Spencer, slow down," Toby replies. "Are you talking about Paige? And Ezra? It's not the first time –A's pulled a stunt like this, though, is it?"

"Well, no, but her pattern's different, this time," Spencer explains. "She's going after you on purpose, not because we did something to piss her off. She's not punishing us; she's _baiting_ us. It's… It's war."

Toby's eyes widen. "War?"

"Yes. And I know it sounds ridiculous," Spencer sighs. "But she's been sending us the four horsemen of the apocalypse, one by one. The night she killed Mona, she sent us the first one, Conquest-"

"Because she'd gotten Mona out of the way for good," Toby says, realization dawning upon him. "And now the game was fully in her control."

"Exactly," Spencer nods. "And then that same night, after I got home, I found the second one, War, in my bed."

"Which explains why she's been going after all of us," Toby continues. "The, uh, significant others."

"Yeah," Spencer says. "So I'm terrified for your safety and I've been trying to figure this out before anything can happen to you or Caleb, but I haven't heard from him or Hanna all day and it's starting to freak me out. So you can't get involved. In fact, you probably shouldn't talk to me at all. Maybe go away for a few days. Make yourself scarce. Don't have any contact with me for like a week."

"I'm not about to leave you right now," Toby rolls his eyes. "And even if I did, even if I stopped talking to you for a while, you really think that would throw her off my path? She's going after the ones you girls love and me making myself scarce for a few days wouldn't make you stop loving me… Would it?"

"No," Spencer sighs. "No, obviously not. That was a stupid idea."

"There you are!" A frightened voice at the doorway of The Brew startles both of them and when they look up, Hanna has burst into the coffeehouse and is frantically making her way toward them. "I've been looking all over for you!"

"Sorry," Spencer's immediately apologetic. "We took an impromptu coffee date and I-"

"Not you," Hanna shakes her head and sits on the couch beside Toby. "When are you working again?"

"Tonight," Toby confirms. "I have to head over there in about an hour. Why?"

"Okay, well then can I still report a missing person to you off the clock?" Hanna asks, her eyes flooded with tears. "I can't find Caleb."

"What? What are you talking about?" Spencer asks, alarmed. "What do you mean you can't find Caleb?"

"I mean, he's _missing!_ " Hanna exclaims. "I didn't hear from him at all yesterday, but I figured he was busy trying to solve this Ezra nude-pic scandal thing. Which, side note, Aria said these pictures were of _Alison_ , not her, and so –A is even more fucked than I thought to begin with. But anyway, I called and texted him all day today and no response. So I went to the apartment and there was no answer, but the door was open and all of his stuff was thrown around and a lamp was broken and… And he's _gone!_ "

"You saw all of that and didn't call the police immediately?" Toby asks and Hanna frowns.

"I'm telling you now!"

"Hanna-"

"No, first she overturns Paige's car," Hanna lists. "Then she sends Ezra to jail. Now she's doing God knows what to Caleb and for what? He didn't do _anything!_ He-"

Her phone chimes with a new message and she nearly jumps out of her skin. "Caleb?"

But unfortunately, it is only a message from their tormentor:

 _Hanna, Hanna, I've been thinking what a cruel world it would be. If Caleb were to go away to some place you couldn't see. –A_

"She is dead _fucking_ meat!"

"Wait, there's a video attachment," Spencer points out and the moment Hanna clicks on it, all of their eyes widen with terror.

It's Caleb, roped to a chair, his hands duct taped behind his back, and an unknown figure is looming above him, quite literally beating the snot out of him. Every so often, Caleb grunts in pain, spits blood onto the floor, but does not cower. In fact, he even grins in the poor lighting, asking his attacker if it's all they've got. The video cuts out just as the figure in the dark hoodie reaches for a knife and Hanna screams, " _No!_ "

The video makes Toby's stomach churn. This is one of his best friends, suffering, being tortured, right in front of his eyes. He glances up and sees the exact same look of disgust and fear in Spencer's eyes and hopes she understands that he can't just let this go. Hanna pleads, "Toby…"

"I'll find him. Forward me the video; I'll need it for evidence." Toby demands and she does so without a second thought. "But I'll find him. He'll be okay. We'll bring him home."

Hanna nods and wipes at her eyes. "Thank you."

"Be careful." Spencer begs as Toby stands to go and she catches his hand, squeezing gently. "Please be safe."

"I will." Toby agrees and bends to kiss her forehead. "I promise."

He nods reassuringly at Hanna, squeezes Spencer's hand one last time, and then he's gone.

* * *

 _Spencer has a boyfriend. Her boyfriend is a cop. Spencer thinks her boyfriend can make the bad things stop. She thinks she has the answers, but clearly she does not. All of Spencer's mistakes are going to get him shot. –A_

Her heart is racing a mile a minute and she presses down _hard_ on the gas pedal, tearing through town. She knew this was going to happen. She _knew_ the second Toby got involved that it would be the end of him. She can't get ahold of any of her friends and, frustrated, she throws her cell phone against the passenger side door, hearing the satisfying, echoing clatter as it falls to the floor. She _knew_ this was going to happen. She's so angry she can barely see straight and she has absolutely no idea where she's going, but Rosewood is rushing by in a blur beside her. They hadn't used the equipment Caleb had lent them while looking for Mona a week back, but the moment she got that menacing, singsong text, she'd been tracking this bitch down. And this bitch, this tormentor of theirs, is racing all over Rosewood and Spencer's _just_ behind her, but if she's going to stop to attack Toby, Spencer's bound to catch up eventually.

"Can you slow down before you kill us both?"

Alarmed, Spencer glances in the rearview mirror, and Alison is sitting in her backseat, terror in her eyes. "Ali? What the _hell_? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

"Honey, I think your stress level is doing that for you," Alison replies. "You don't want to do this. Going after him. That's exactly what he wants. You're falling right into his trap."

"I'm going to kill -A." Spencer says. "I'm going to fucking kill her. Him. It. _Bitch._ "

"You're not a killer, Spencer," Alison tells her. "You know that and I know that."

"So I should, what? Just let them kill Toby and not retaliate?" Spencer replies. "I'm not going through this again."

"You're too focused on -A these days," Alison leans forward, her breath warm in Spencer's ear. "What about me?"

"What _about_ you?" Spencer asks, accompanied with an eye roll. "We can't help you. You made that clear."

"You _can_ help me. But you're dangerously close to my own fate." Alison replies. "And I told you to be careful. This, Spencer, is not careful. You're playing with so much fire and sooner or later, you're going to get burned."

"What do you mean?" Spencer asks and Alison's eyes go wide.

"Sooner."

Spencer glances back at road, at the bright blue sign directing her to Lookout Point. She'd chased –A all the way to the very cliff side where she'd first unmasked Mona. Spencer heaves a sigh but when she turns back, Alison is nowhere to be seen. "Ali? Alison?"

The unmistakable sound of gunshots resonates through the air and Spencer can feel bile begin to rise in her throat. She scrambles out of her vehicle and races up the cliff, the wind cool on her bare skin, the trees rustling about, the acorns crunching beneath her shoes and reminding her all too well of the night she'd found Toby's doppelganger in the woods, matching tattoo and all. It's dark; she cannot see. She has no idea where she's going or what she's about to find and she isn't even armed, so if she dies tonight as well, then at least they'll die together. But there, in a clearing surrounded by pine trees and firs, she spots Toby, still in uniform, his gun cocked and aimed at a hooded figure before him and they are identical in stature. Frozen in place, Spencer can only watch as Toby calls for the figure to lower their weapon, and instead, a bullet slices through the air and clips him right in the stomach. He collapses to the ground and Spencer feels all the wind get sucked from her lungs in an instant. She tries to scream, but it comes out as a squeak. She cannot breathe. She cannot think. She cannot move.

Until she can.

" _No!_ " She screams and both the hooded figure and Toby, writhing on the ground in pain, turn to face her. The figure takes off into the trees and Spencer blindly follows, adrenaline and fear and pain coursing through her and fueling her every step. This figure sprints into the darkness and pushes through the thicket of trees, leaping over logs and darting in and out of the shadows, twigs snapping and popping beneath their feet. And Spencer tries, Spencer tries _so_ hard, to keep up, but she cannot. It is too dark. This figure has superhuman strength and she loses them somewhere in the middle of the forest. Instead, she reaches for her phone with shaking hands and miraculously, she has service, so she calls for an ambulance and prays that she'll find Toby again, that he'll make it. She's crying by the time she makes it back to the clearing and he has gone so white and so still beneath her. Blood is oozing from the wound in his stomach and she kneels carefully beside him, shaking hands wanting to touch every inch of him, but wary of causing him anymore pain.

"Toby…" She croaks out and she doesn't think she can say anything else. She's going to be sick.

"I think…" He coughs out, his voice strangled. "I'm going to need a new uniform after this."

"Shut up," Spencer smirks through her tears, furiously wiping them from her cheeks. "Don't make jokes at a time like this."

"Someone… has to," He struggles and coughs again, blood seeping from his mouth. "I'll be fine."

He grows paler, still, and his eyelids are heavy. Spencer begs, "Don't close your eyes. Don't leave me."

Toby's eyes fall shut and his lips part one last time. "I love you."

"I love you too. Don't leave me." She repeats and he is still. "Toby! _Toby!_ "

She scurries away from him, reaching for her phone again and dialing 911 a second time. "Come on… Come on, come on, _come on!_ "

She thinks she hears the snapping of branches under footsteps. She thinks she hears the faintest siren in the distance. She even thinks, at one point, that she can see the flashing red and blue of help coming her way.

She thinks she hears Alison scream.

" _911\. What is your emergency?_ "

Out of the darkness, a pillowcase gets pulled roughly over her face, her arms are restrained and she gets clubbed in the face.

And she doesn't think too much, after that.


	5. Five

**Hello! Good afternoon! Happy update Tuesday! I just woke up from a glorious nap and realized I didn't update yet! My bad. I needed the nap, you guys. I spent most of last night in an airport and- gasp!- it wasn't because of a notoriously bad airline. Like, I wasn't flying United or Spirit or American or something. You'd expect it then, right? At least I would. Anyway. Let me stop. The northeast has had some shitty weather and it wasn't their fault. But it still sucked and I was awake for 24 hours yesterday... Awesome.**

 **Anyway, enough of my griping. Thank you so much for your incredible responses to the last chapter! They made me grin like an idiot. To those concerned- no, please don't worry, I wouldn't kill Toby like that. Or, at all. Let's be real, he's the saving grace of this show. I love him too much- don't worry, he's safe. Spencer, on the other hand... :P No, I'm kidding. Thank you for your reviews and I hope you enjoy this chapter too! :D**

 **EDIT because I forgot- please go to YouTube asap and watch Dr. Jean's crazy video, "I Am Slowly Going Crazy." You'll understand why later on in the chapter. Thank me later. :P**

* * *

Five

"It takes many sheep to satisfy one wolf." – Nenia Campbell, " _Horrorscape_ "

A brilliant bright light is the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes and for a moment, he wonders if he's died.

Everything in his tiny hospital room is white- the floors, the walls, the synthetic blinds, the bed sheets- which makes the sunlight bursting through the open window all the brighter and all the more blinding. The sky is clear and cloudless and it's a perfect, beautiful day and for a moment, Toby forgets why he's here in the first place. His mouth is dry, his mind is foggy and he's so disoriented he can barely focus on any detail for too long. His tired eyes move from the windowsill to the hard plastic chairs at his bedside to the beeping heart monitor connected through an arterial line in his left hand. It smells too clean in here, like the entire room has just been scrubbed down with an alcohol swab, and it's beginning to make him uncomfortable. His head is pounding. He's desperate for a drink of water. He doesn't know what's happening because his mind is so foggy, he feels as though he's caught in a cloud. What happened? What is he doing lying here in the middle of the hospital anyway? He needs his phone. He needs to call Spencer and he needs to go to work. He doesn't have the faintest clue as to why he's here.

But then he tries to sit up and grimaces in immeasurable pain. And he remembers.

"Uh-uh," A nurse appears in the doorway, shaking her head. "Now who told you that you were ready to go ahead and do that?"

"Sorry," Toby replies, his voice thick. "I didn't realize."

"You've been in and out for a couple of days. We'll get you moving soon enough." She grins at him and reaches for the IV line, adjusting. "Your color's coming back, though. You're looking good."

Toby winces as she checks his vitals next. "Thanks."

"You're lucky to be alive, you know. You lost a _lot_ of blood." The nurse remarks next, pen between her teeth as she plucks his clipboard from the end of his bed. "That bullet of yours went straight through your side and out your back. If it had stuck around and we had to dig for it? Or if it clipped an artery? Or an organ? Doctor Jacobson says it missed your kidney by _that_ much and if it hadn't… My friend, we wouldn't be talking right now."

Toby nods. "I get it."

"You're lucky," The nurse repeats again, beaming as she nods upwards. "Someone up there really likes you."

Toby wonders if that's true, if it really had been luck that kept him alive, or if it was something else. He has no doubt –A wasn't shooting to kill; just to get him out of the way, just to make him stop searching for Caleb, just to scare the life out of Spencer. So he definitely wouldn't call that luck; just circumstance. "Yeah. I guess so."

"But I guess this is par for the course, anyhow." She goes on. "You are one of Rosewood's finest, are you not?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"And I'm sure, as awful as it must've been, getting hurt in the line of duty is something you were prepared for."

"Well," Toby grimaces. "I'm not sure you're ever prepared to get shot."

She laughs wholeheartedly. "Touché! Well alright, Mr. Cavanaugh, you are looking good. Core temperature's up, BP is normal, antibiotics are flowing nicely and I think we'll get you up and moving by the end of the day. Should have you out of here by tomorrow, Wednesday at the latest. Sound good to you?"

"Sure," Toby agrees. "Do you know anything about my wallet or cell phone or car keys? I had them with me when I was shot but I'm not sure if the hospital has them or my girlfriend or-"

"Your girlfriend?" The nurse's brow knits in concern and Toby nods.

"She was with me when I came in, right?" Toby asks. "She called for the ambulance, I thought."

"You came in here alone," The woman replies and heads for the door. "Wait here- your things were inventoried when you were brought in. I'll grab them for you."

He nods, but a creeping sense of worry begins to ignite itself deep within him. _You came in here alone_. But that can't be true… Can it? He certainly hadn't hallucinated Spencer's presence; she was there, at Lookout Point, chasing –A through the forest as he bled out onto the mossy floor. She was definitely there; -A would've made sure of it. And he remembers her frantic, tear-filled voice on the phone with the emergency operator, he remembers her pleading with him not slip into unconsciousness as his body betrayed him and did it anyway, he remembers the fear and the panic in her eyes as he professed his love and she returned the sentiment, most likely misconstruing this as him bidding farewell to her forever. Spencer was there. Spencer wouldn't have left him, especially not when he was in such a sorry state. The nurse _had_ to have been mistaking. But when she returns with a plastic bag full of his belongings, Toby begins to question his own memory.

"Here you are," She grins and he thanks her, tearing into the bag and making a beeline for his cell phone. "I'll be back in about an hour. I do want to try to get you up and walking today."

"Okay," Toby nods, his attention elsewhere. He's pressed the power button twice to no avail. His phone is dead.

"By the way," The nurse announces from the doorway. "You have a visitor."

His spirits lift at this simple sentence and a bit of the tension she's fueled within him dissipates. There she is. Spencer's come to visit and, knowing her, her anxiety is probably through the roof with the uncertainty of his condition and he's eager to set her straight. He's fine- he'll _be_ fine- just like he told her as he was slipping away on that cliff side. The fading black screen of his cell phone still displays a battery with a critically low red line but he imagines that if he turned it on, all he'd find is a dozen or so missed texts and calls from the girlfriend in question. He grows anxious with the anticipation of seeing her and can't help the smile that forms on his face, but it falters with disappointment the moment his actual visitor enters the room. It's Caleb and it's not that he isn't happy to see his friend; of course he is. It's just that he'd been expecting someone else and now he's worried sick. If Spencer isn't here, if Spencer hadn't accompanied him in the ambulance to the hospital, then where the hell _is_ she?

"Hey," Caleb greets him gruffly and Toby does his best to plaster that smile back onto his face. "You look… rough."

"You look like hell," Toby replies and it's true. –A and her minions had certainly done a number on him; he's got a black eye, a split lip, a medically stitched cut along his collarbone and hand-shaped bruises around his neck. Eyes wide, Toby asks, "Are you alright?"

"Sure," Caleb shrugs. "You?"

"Yeah." Toby replies shortly. "Do you happen to have a phone charger on you? Mine's dead."

Caleb chuckles, as if he can't simply believe _this_ is what his friend is asking for, but he reaches into his backpack and produces the cord. Toby nods and immediately plugs his phone into the wall. "Thanks."

"Toby…" Caleb starts, sighing. "Shit's been going down since you've been in here."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Toby nods. "I feel like I've been away for a hundred years. Is Ezra still in jail? Did Paige ever get out of the hospital? And you- where were they keeping you?"

"I don't know. One minute, they're using my face for boxing practice. The next, they're blindfolding me and pushing me out of a van in the middle of town." Caleb explains. "I haven't heard anything about Ezra's case, so they're probably keeping it hush-hush. I assume he's still in jail. And Paige is recovering at home, now. She's back in school as of yesterday."

"Good," Toby nods. "I'm out of the loop. I've been trying to piece this whole thing together- us and the girls- and none of it is making any sense to me."

Caleb glances at the floor and sinks into a chair at his friend's bedside. "That's what I'm here to tell you about. The girls."

Toby's heart gives an unwanted, painful tug and begins to beat just a bit faster. "What do you mean?"

Caleb shakes his head, like he cannot believe it himself, but says, "They're gone."

"What do you mean they're _gone_?" Toby asks, sitting a little straighter despite the pain that instantly shoots through his abdomen. He'd been right to worry; Spencer's in danger. He thinks back a moment earlier, to when he'd learned he'd arrived at the hospital alone, and dread seeps through his bloodstream. Spencer _never_ would've left him; at least, not by her own accord.

"I mean, they're _gone_. Vanished. Disappeared." Caleb shakes his head. "And it's so fucked because –A did _exactly_ what she said she was going to do- frame them for Mona's murder. The results came back and their DNA was all over the room. They had evidence of menacing texts and death threats the girls had sent Mona. And now they're Rosewood's most wanted, but they're nowhere to be found."

Toby's stomach is churning. "Jesus Christ."

"There's a warrant out for their arrest," Caleb continues. "But no one's seen or heard from them since the night you got shot. And Tanner- I'm sorry, I know she's your boss, but the woman's a sack of shit."

Dreading the answer, Toby asks, "What did she do?"

"She issued a massive manhunt for them. She's got practically all of Pennsylvania looking." Caleb says. "She thinks they're on the run and warned the public not to approach them because they could be armed and dangerous. And she thinks… She doesn't think Mona was their first victim."

At this, Toby's eyes widen. "Alison?"

"Yeah," Caleb confirms. "She thinks they murdered Alison, stashed her body somewhere and got away with it. And now that they _didn't_ get away with Mona's murder, they've fled."

"That's bullshit." Toby shakes his head. "No, that's _bullshit_. They're the victims, here. They've always been!"

"I know that. _You_ know that. But no one in Rosewood knows that." Caleb says. "We know our girls. We know they've never murdered anyone. But –A has gone through _a lot_ of trouble to make it look like they have."

"We have to find them." Toby states adamantly. "We have to set the record straight."

"Now you're speaking my language." Caleb agrees. "Only problem is I don't have a single clue where to look."

"Yeah," Toby frowns. "Neither do I."

Beside him, his phone springs to life and his work emails come flooding in. With increasing anger, Toby reads them one by one, balling his fists and about ready to murder Tanner on the spot. " _Massive manhunt underway for primary suspects in Vanderwaal murder_. They're not on the run! They've been taken, you _moron!_ "

"Welcome to my world," Caleb groans. "It's been like this for days. Press conferences, police cars on every corner, Tanner's stupid face on the news every night…"

"I can't imagine what must be going through their minds," Toby shakes his head, his heart aching as Spencer is all he can think of. "They've been kidnapped by this _monster_ and no one's helping. No one's looking for them. Because everyone thinks-"

"Well, _we_ don't think that." Caleb cuts him off before he can finish his awful thought. "We're going to bring them back. _Alive_."

"As soon as possible."

After a beat, Caleb asks the question Toby's been dreading. "What do you think –A's doing to them?"

Toby's phone buzzes with a new text and when he opens it, his heart nearly leaps from the confines of his chest. "Nothing good."

He turns the screen towards Caleb and the color drains from his face. It's a picture of all four girls, lying unconscious on a cold morgue table, a simple white sheet to cover what they're assuming are their bare bodies. They're completely lifeless and the caption reads:

 _Goodnight stars, goodnight air. Goodnight liars everywhere. –A_

* * *

She awakens with a jolt, as if electricity has coursed its way through her veins, and she has no idea where she is.

She's on the floor; that much is clear. She's curled up in the fetal position and she doesn't know how long she's been asleep, but her right arm is numb and her neck aches from the strange position. Carefully, Spencer pulls herself to a sitting position and adjusts as well as she can. She's in her bedroom- or so it appears. There's something eerily unfamiliar about her surroundings, even though whoever had brought her here had gone through so much effort to get each painstaking detail correct. The wallpaper, the French doors that would normally hide her closet, the four-poster bed with billowing white curtains that always reminded her of a twenties film… They're all there. She even realizes, with a tug at her heartstrings, that the rocking chair Toby had handcrafted for her in the early throes of their relationship is there too, in the corner. Curiously, Spencer crawls toward it, drawing her in like a link to her actual life. The wood feels polished and unfamiliar beneath her fingers and there's a sticker advertising the name and number of a furniture store underneath the seat. It's a crushing blow to her spirit and from there, Spencer begins to see all the ways in which this room is _not_ like hers.

The wallpaper is the same, but in her actual room, the paper has begun to peel in the corner by the door hinge, something her father always said he'd fix but never has. The French doors leading to her closet look the same, but when she yanks them open, there is no closet behind them; it's merely a wall, plastered in the same mauve wallpaper that clothes the rest of the room. The four-poster bed appears to be identical to hers, but when she sits upon it, it's as hard as concrete and when she peels back the duvet and sheets, she finds that's exactly what it is. She walks around the room, slipping through the silence, inspecting each detail, every last inch of this room, and cannot stop focusing on where –A went wrong. It horrifies her to think of just how well –A knows the ins and outs of her bedroom, of how much time their tormentor spent studying every tiny piece of her life, right down to the exact books on her bookcase and array of pens on her desk. A shiver runs up her spine as she passes her bedroom window, which would normally look out onto the DiLaurentis property but now there is merely a black wall, and heads for the door.

She passes by the mirror and stops dead.

She's wearing a pair of dark jeans and an argyle sweater. And she hadn't been wearing that the last time she was conscious.

Racing across the room, Spencer reaches for the handle on her bedroom door and tries desperately to ignore the implications this monumental wardrobe change has suddenly brought her. The door doesn't budge. _You were wearing a dress before_ , her mind not so helpfully points out as she grips the door handle with both hands. _A dress. A belt. A cardigan._ She yanks, tugs, pulls and it doesn't move in the slightest. _Where's the dress, Spencer? Where did you get_ these _clothes?_ "Come on," Spencer begs the motionless door and wonders if he's watching her struggle, somewhere, having a laugh at her expense; she's decided it's a he, because only a man could be this sick. _He undressed you. He removed your clothing. He's seen you naked. Exposed_. She slams her hand against the doorframe, jiggles the knob, fiddles with the latch, but it doesn't give way and her frustration is mounting only instigated further by her fear and inner torment. _He undressed you. And did God only knows what else_.

She gives in, collapsing to the floor with a heaving sob, her arms coming around her middle as the tears flow freely down her cheeks. She feels ugly, disgusting. Used, violated. Dirty.

She wonders if this had been his plan all along.

"Spencer?"

At the sound of her name, hope floods her veins for just a moment. But it is fleeting; Alison sits upon the concrete slab serving as her bed and Spencer scowls, tucking back into herself. "Of _course_ you're here."

"I've always been here." Alison replies, somewhat sadly. "Spencer, don't you know what this place is?"

" _Rooms to Go: Spencer Hastings Edition_?" Spencer drones sarcastically and Alison smirks.

"It's –A's lair," Alison informs her. "But keep your wits about you. It's the only way you'll survive in here."

"And how do I get out?"

"If I had the answer to that question," Alison rolls her eyes. "Do you think I'd still be here?"

"Are the girls here?"

"Yes." Alison nods. "Entombed alive in mausoleums that look just like their bedrooms, too. He has a thing for consistency."

"And why am I…" Spencer trails off, glancing down at her outfit. "Wearing this?"

"Don't you remember?" Alison grins, her perfect teeth gleaming in the artificial light. "You were wearing that the night I died."

Spencer glances at her outfit again and it all comes _screaming_ back to her. The jeans, the pink argyle sweater, the starchy white collar… They'd been drinking, they'd fallen asleep and hours later, when they'd awakened, Alison was gone. Spencer shakes her head. "I don't understand."

"You will," Alison says. "Come on! Enough of this crying and moping around. This weeping mess I found when I got here is _not_ the Spencer I know. You're strong. You've always been strong. And you're going to figure this out."

"Why can't you just help me?" Spencer asks. "Come on, you said you've always been here. You _must've_ figured some way out. You've visited us before; how did you do it?"

Alison purses her lips. "How _did_ I do it?"

"Alison-!"

"Spencer," Alison cuts her off. "I admire you. I admire your pluck, your determination, your work ethic. You were always strong in a way I never was and so intelligent it scared me, sometimes. You were never my favorite, but maybe that's because I saw so much of myself in you and, more importantly, so many great qualities in you that I did not possess myself. We're the same. But we're polar opposites, too. And if he doesn't know that now, well, he's going to find out real quick. I never wanted you to end up here. I tried to intervene. But you're strong; all four of you. And I know you won't be as stupid as I was and meet my same fate."

She hops off the bed and walks toward the open window, staring at the dark wall. "He left you something beneath the bed. You can do this, Spencer. Don't doubt yourself, especially now."

Spencer crawls halfway underneath the bed and produces a small cardboard box, one clean strip of packing tape down its middle, and when she resurfaces, Alison is gone. She blinks, rubs her eyes, and wonders if she's imagined the whole thing.

Running her thumbnail down the line of tape, she splits the box open right down the middle, pushes past all the packaging peanuts and finds the object of her conquests- a small black horse, its rider carrying a pair of weighing scales. She finds the slip of paper next and reads aloud so as to quiet the silent noise her solitude brings.

 _When He broke the third seal, I heard the third living creature saying, "Come." I looked, and behold, a black horse; and he who sat on it had a pair of scales in his hand. And I heard something like a voice in the center of the four living creatures saying, "A quart of wheat for a denarius, and three quarts of barley for a denarius; but do not damage the oil and the wine."_

The third horseman of the apocalypse symbolizes Famine; this Spencer understands.

Boldly, her stomach gives a loud, angry, resonating growl.

* * *

A while back, Hanna had showed Spencer a YouTube video of a woman singing a silly song about slowly going crazy. It was going viral at the time and Spencer had, somehow, never seen it, so the girls gathered around her laptop and pressed play. The woman sang the song forwards and backwards, switched her body position rapidly and the song grew faster and faster each time she sang it. It was, in a word, ridiculous, and the only one laughing at the time had been Hanna. "Isn't it hilarious?" She asked, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. "The woman's lost it." Spencer had shaken her head. "It's definitely _crazy_. Is this her cry for help?" Hanna had frowned. "You're taking all the fun out of it. It's a dumb song and a dumb video. Chill." And so Spencer had. And unfortunately, the catchy, silly song had been stuck in her head the rest of the afternoon.

Right about now, she knows _exactly_ what this woman is going through.

She doesn't know how long she's been locked in this tiny cubicle without sunlight or fresh air. She doesn't know how long she's been forcing herself to stay awake because she's terrified of what –A will to do her if she falls asleep. She doesn't know how long she's been deprived of food. It may have been hours, it may have been days, it may have been _years_ for all she knows. But she's beginning to lose it. Her stomach is so empty it _hurts_ ; distractions aren't helping because there isn't much in the room to occupy her mind with. The books are full of empty pages, the notebooks on her desk have no paper, the pens are missing ink. She imagines there's a monster living deep within her soul and every time her stomach grumbles and growls it's the monster awakening, begging for food. She hopes that by depriving this fake monster its sustenance that she can trick her mind into thinking it doesn't need food, but she's failing so far.

And she's _slowly going crazy one two three four five six switch_.

Spencer tears at her hair and sinks to the ground, ignoring the agonizing ache in her stomach. She needs food. She needs sustenance. She'd eat just about _anything_ at this point. She remembers when she was very young- maybe five, maybe six- and going with her parents and sister to her grandparents' house for St. Patrick's Day dinner. Her mother's side of the family wasn't even Irish, but this had been a tradition for as long as Spencer could remember and they'd sit down to a steaming plate of corned beef and cabbage every single year. Now Melissa, because she was _perfect_ , would heap her dish high and eat every single drop, not once complaining about the look or the smell of the food put before her. But Spencer? Spencer used every trick in the book to try and get out of eating it. To her, the corned beef tasted like pure salt, stringy and gamey, and the cabbage smelled like a sweaty pair of gym socks that had sat in a dumpster for two weeks. She'd spit it out, cry and carry on, even make herself physically ill so as to not have to put the meal in her mouth. Eventually, Veronica would give up and toss her meal into the garbage disposal, and her grandmother would say, " _If you eat, you eat. If you don't, you don't_." Spencer would always indignantly reply, " _Then I_ won't!" And she didn't. And she stood by her decision like the stubborn little child she was.

Right about now, she'd eat the entire world's supply of corned beef and cabbage. She's never been this hungry in her life.

Curling into a ball, Spencer squeezes her eyes shut and tries desperately to think of _anything_ else to get her mind off of food. It doesn't work. Everything she tries brings her to food somehow. She thinks of school and how much she's missing and her mind ends up bringing her to the cafeteria food, with the sticky meatloaf and the lumpy mashed potatoes and the taco bar that sent four kids home with food poisoning. She thinks of her parents and how they used to have family dinners every night back when Spencer was in grade school, but then their careers really skyrocketed and they stopped coming home before nine p.m. and most of the time, dinner was whatever Melissa could microwave, tuna fish sandwiches or cereal. She thinks of the girls, too, but before they had a cyber stalker they always met for dinner at the Apple Rose Grille, every Friday night, and would order salads and burgers and pink lemonade and discuss all the gossip from the week as Alison chimed in with what she did and didn't believe, what was or wasn't true. And she thinks of Toby; of _course_ she thinks of Toby. He's all she's been thinking about from the moment she'd arrived. She doesn't know if he's okay, but for her own sake she has to believe he's recovering in the hospital, just as worried about her as she is him. She thinks of date nights and takeout from their favorite little Italian place, laughing over lasagna, fighting over the last garlic knot.

And before long, she can smell it.

She inhales deeply and her stomach growls and her mouth waters at the scent. _Buccoli's_ , Spencer thinks automatically. _They've found me_. It's an unmistakable smell; she's encountered this over a thousand times, now, in her lifetime. In fact, she and Toby are such loyal customers they don't even have to order, anymore. The hostess knows their order by heart. Spencer takes another deep breath and nearly melts at the comforting smell of marinara and ricotta, garlic and butter, freshly baked bread and the perfect marriage of oregano and thyme. She follows the scent like a bloodhound, sniffing the air and crawling across the floor as the smell grows stronger and stronger and she can see steam emitting from the closed closet doors. She reaches out hungrily, grabs the handles with both hands and yanks it open. There, on the floor in front of her, is a plateful of expertly crafted, homemade lasagna, a side salad, a garlic knot or two and Italian bread, fresh and hot from the oven. She begins to drool and reaches out, momentarily wondering if she'll have to eat this with her hands and then chuckling like a madwoman, because that's _not what's important right now_.

The moment her hands touch the food, it vanishes from sight. She's hallucinated the whole thing.

And what's worse is that this isn't the first time.

Her stomach emits another ravenous roar and _crazy going slowly is she six five four three two one switch._

* * *

It's his first day back to work since his hospitalization and to say he doesn't want to be here would be the understatement of the century.

In fact, the very _last_ place on the face of the Earth Toby wants to be in is right here, in this damn police station, when he could be out there, hatching a plan with Caleb to try and find the girls and bring them home. He's in a building where he's not respected with a boss who's made it clear she doesn't like him and with colleagues who believe his girlfriend and her friends murdered two of their peers. This is most certainly _not_ his first choice of locale for the day. But he puts on that brand new, starchy uniform, slips his badge onto his chest and does his best to keep his irritation at bay. He'll do what he can to voice his opinion and share his suggestions without seeming pushy, childish or whiny, but he can't promise Tanner won't jump down his throat. She's already made it pretty clear that she thinks he'd piss on his badge if it meant keeping Spencer safe.

Which, to be fair, is mostly true. Still-

A few of his coworkers welcome him back with open arms but a couple merely nod in his direction before getting back to their deskwork. He sinks into his own chair and does his best to ignore the whispers at the back of the room. Surely, he's thinking, they're wondering how he even got shot in the first place and more importantly why he let the perp get away. Toby frowns and shakes his head clear of these thoughts, reaching for the manila folder on his desk and beginning to enter the police records into the system. He manages a few names and dates before his eyes eventually fall on the framed photograph of him and Spencer beside his nameplate. It makes his entire body ache with longing and the fact that he's just supposed to go on like nothing's wrong is absolutely killing him. He can't pretend this entire thing hasn't shaken him to the core; he's so scared he can barely function. He has no idea where she is or what –A's doing to her, but the moment he finds her and gets her to safety, he is going to destroy this faceless person for ever inflicting this kind of pain on the woman he loves.

Glancing back at the photo of the smiling Spencer on his desk, he finds himself getting momentarily choked up. _I'll find you, Spence. I promise._

"Meeting. Conference room three." Tanner announces to the entire department, breaking Toby out of his reverie. " _Now_."

He stands slowly, following his coworkers down the hallway to the larger room they only used for serious meetings. Toby catches the eye of one of his colleagues, a newbie just like him, and asks, "Is this a thing now?"

The man nods grimly. "Everyday."

They file around the table, taking their seats, and Tanner is at the head. She does not sit, but instead addresses them, "Good morning. Thank you for being here today. I would like to extend a welcome back to Officer Cavanaugh. We're glad you've recovered well and are ready to join forces with us once more."

Toby balks at the inclusion and finds himself growing timid as all eyes are on him. "Um… Thanks."

"As we now have all the evidence we need to pursue this case, let us turn our attention to these two girls." Tanner announces and behind her, Toby notices, are photos of Alison and Mona. Mona's photo is up to date- her yearbook photo from this very school year- but Alison… It's the photograph they'd used two years ago when she'd gone missing. She's still wearing that infamously dreadful yellow top. "This, as you well know, is Alison DiLaurentis, on the left, and Mona Vanderwaal, on the right. What do the two girls have in common, you ask? They were both young. They were both students at Rosewood High School. And they were _both_ taken before their time."

Toby's breathing is even but his hands have begun to shake with anger already. He takes them off of the table and clenches them in his lap as Tanner continues. "Much of Alison's murder remains a mystery, including the whereabouts of her remains. But Mona's is clear as day. The motel, the bloody knife we found in the campground fifty miles from the spot where Mona was found, and the heaping evidence we gained once we accessed Mona's cell phone, laptop, school locker and bedroom. The girl was not only bullied, she was _hunted_. And by whom?"

Tanner reaches into her briefcase and pulls out four photographs, passing them around the table. The room begins to swim as Toby gets the glossy 5x9s of Emily, Aria, Hanna and Spencer. "Emily Fields, Spencer Hastings, Hanna Marin and Aria Montgomery. They wanted Alison gone and so they made her go away. They disliked Mona and they took her out, too. These girls are ruthless, dangerous, and must be stopped before they claim their next victim. The entire high school population remains unsafe while these girls are still at large. We must find them and bring them to justice so parents can rest easy again. No one should have to fear sending their child to school."

Toby can't take it anymore. He passes along the photos and asks, "Are they the only suspects?"

"While I admit that their involvement in Alison's murder is just a theory of mine, Officer Cavanaugh, you can't deny their involvement in Mona's," She replies almost patronizingly. "You've seen the evidence, have you not? It's insurmountable. Footprints in the blood, fingerprints on the doorknobs and light switches, hair fibers found on the tile and the carpet… They were in that room for a long time."

"They found her," Toby shrugs. "That doesn't mean they killed her. Did the fingerprints on the knife match any of theirs?"

"Yes," Tanner nods. "Hanna's fingerprints were found on the knife, as well as a partial fingerprint on the blade that remains inconclusive."

"But," an officer, David Harrison, on Toby's right speaks up. "The knife originated from the Marins' kitchen. Hanna could've used it a dozen times and not one of those had to be for this murder."

Toby smiles. He knew he always liked this guy. Tanner purses her lips. "Officer Harrison, do you have a different theory? Because if you do, please, share with the class."

He lets out a sigh and sinks back against the chair. "No."

"Alright then," Tanner continues. "As I was saying, we believe the tension surrounding this case was becoming too much for the girls to bear and they've fled. They know what they did was wrong and they know that we are after them. They could be anywhere right now, but we have leads. We have someone saying they spotted them just outside Harrisburg this morning. We have Aria Montgomery's cell phone and I believe we can use it to our advantage; dive into it, tear it apart, read her texts and see if there is any communication about where they might have been planning on going once they set their escape plan into motion. One way or another, we will bring these girls down."

The officers around the table nod compliantly and Toby wants to scream. He wishes, just _wishes_ , these coworkers of his knew what was really going on, wishes they were there every time the girls got an –A text, wishes they could see the terror and panic in the girls' eyes as they received threat after threat. Toby wishes each one of the souls sitting around this table could know the horror of watching the one they love get tortured with the idea that they would never be free, that they must comply and conform at all costs, that all their loved ones would be seriously injured or killed if they so much as strayed from the original plan. Toby wishes, just _wishes_ , that these guys had been there the night Mona was murdered and had seen what came after; how Spencer trembled in his arms, fear exploding from her every action, and cried the moment she thought something terrible would happen to him if she didn't do what was asked of her. Toby wishes they understood, wishes Spencer could tell them herself, but she doesn't have a voice. These girls never do.

It's then that he realizes _he_ does.

"I have a theory." Toby announces and Tanner smirks, glancing over at her partner who chuckles lowly as if saying, _this ought to be good._

"Thank you for your contribution, Officer Cavanaugh." Tanner smiles wryly. "Go on."

"I understand that you have this whole thing pretty much locked and loaded," Toby begins. "But with all due respect, I'm a bit closer to the girls than you are and I know them better than you think you do."

A few of the officers' mouths drop open and many eyes are wide, now, watching Toby with their full attention. The smile slips off of Tanner's face, her joy extinguished, and she asks, "Officer Cavanaugh, is this the part where you confess to being an accomplice? I understand you're _very_ close to one of these girls in particular, but aiding and abetting this crime makes you an accessory to murder and we'd be sorry to see you go so soon."

 _Like hell you would_. Toby holds his tongue. "Detective Tanner, in order for me to confess to being an accessory to their crime, they would have had to _actually_ have committed one."

The room is so silent, he can hear Tanner breathing from ten feet away. She asks, "And what exactly are you implying?"

"You know _exactly_ what I'm implying." Toby replies. "You're so focused on skewering these girls with justice, you haven't even paused to take a breath and see the bigger picture. Alison and Mona were victims, yes, but so are the girls and they're going to be the next bodies you find unless you find the _actual_ person responsible."

"Oh really?"

"Yes. There's another explanation for what's going and I'm sorry it doesn't fit your perfect, cookie cutter crime scene." Toby fumes and anger spills out of him like a tapped oilrig. He doesn't quite hold his tongue, this time. "These girls have been hurt and followed and stalked and tortured for years by some sick freak who gets his jollies messing with teenage girls. And now he's created the ultimate crime- frame them for murder, distract _you_ , so he can snatch them away from Rosewood and keep them all to himself. They're not on the run; they've been _kidnapped_. And you guys are so focused on putting them behind bars that you don't realize they already are."

Tanner remains silent as Toby continues. "And why didn't they call the police, you ask? Why didn't they come to you in the first place? No, they tried that. A dozen times, actually. And this whole department is so _corrupt_ that it ended up hurting them more in the long run if they did so. They tried asking for help, they tried turning to the police, and you always made it their fault. You always found a way to turn it on _them_. And so, they learned to lie. They stopped trusting you. And now they're paying the price for it. They can't even trust that you'll bring them home, because you've plastered their faces all over town like they're at the top of the America's Most Wanted list instead of looking at all your options and wondering if maybe there was something else going on. You blamed _them_ instead of looking for the truth; instead of taking their side and looking for the monster who's been after them all along."

"They're liars. Sure." Toby finishes and he's still so angry he can barely see straight. "But they're not _murderers_. As usual, you're all focusing on the wrong details."

At this, everyone's eyes are on Tanner and Toby can tell, even from here, that she's _pissed_. "Officer Cavanaugh, I appreciate your candor. But I think you're letting your personal bias and interest in this case interfere with the cold, hard facts. The evidence is substantial and the fact of the matter is-"

"The fact of the matter is, I don't give a shit about the evidence!" Toby exclaims. "Have you watched a movie or seen a TV show lately? Planting evidence and framing someone for murder is not that difficult!"

"Officer Cavanaugh, I would ask you to refrain from-"

"Refrain from what? Seeing the truth? You're doing enough of that for the both of us!"

"You will do your job, do you understand me?" Tanner spits back venomously, hatred in her eyes. "You will do your _goddamned_ job or I will have no problem suspending you!"

"Do _your_ job! Look at this objectively! Look at all sides!" Toby shouts back. "Stop letting _your_ personal grudge against these girls get in the way of what's really happening!"

"You're off the case." Tanner decides in a split second and Toby's eyes widen. "You're too close to the matter and you're off the case. I swear to God, I don't want to hear another word from your mouth! You will leave this room _immediately_ and you will _not_ touch this case again!"

"Fine." Toby retorts. "If you're not going to help me find them and bring the _actual_ perp to justice, then I'll find people who will."

With that, he rises from his chair, storms past an infuriated and indignant Tanner, and departs the conference room, letting the door slam behind him with an echoing clatter.


	6. Six

**Good morning, good morning! Happy update Tuesday! I'm hoping this lovely, final Tuesday in June is finding you well. Someone was saying there's something important happening today, but I don't know what that is. :P I'm kidding, obviously. I know tonight is the final episode of PLL. To be honest, the show needed to end three years ago, but I'm sad for the cast, anyway. But not too sad- they're the ones getting paid for this, so... :P I may actually even watch the episode if I'm feeling bold. Probably not. But maybe?  
**

 **Anyway, thank you for your responses on the last chapter. Things are definitely going to get worse before they get better, I'm sorry to say. I also want to mention that I'll be going away for vacation for a couple of weeks, so I may be able to get another chapter out to you next week, but if I don't, don't fret. I'll be back mid-July and we'll wrap this sucker up then. Okay, cool. So I will see you in the reviews then, right? Awesome. Love you all! :D**

* * *

Six

"Which is the true nightmare, the horrific dream that you have in your sleep or the dissatisfied reality that awaits you when you awake?" – Justin Alcala

She's about ready to eat her own limbs. She's starving to the brink of death.

Once, when Spencer had been about twelve or thirteen, she'd gone with her father to a charity auction to benefit starving children in Africa. Her father had raised the bid to almost five thousand dollars, sure he would be outbid, but in the end, he was named winner. His smile was tight as he shook hands with the auctioneer; surely, Spencer knew he must be proud his money was going to help save the lives of thousands in a country less fortunate than theirs, but she was also fairly certain he hadn't been expecting to spend quite so much. He'd grumbled about it the entire ride home, but Spencer had remained silent, because she couldn't quite get the images of these poor children out of her head. Sunken eye sockets, rail-thin arms and legs that could snap at the slightest touch, concaved stomachs and ribs barely concealed behind their thin layer of skin, poking painfully outward, excruciatingly unavoidable. To this day, Spencer's still not sure how her father had been able to turn a blind eye to their suffering; these images _still_ haunt her dreams at night.

She wonders what he would say if he could see her now.

Painfully, Spencer crawls across the floor on her hands and knees and pushes the mirror away from the wall. Adding another tick mark with the nail she'd wrenched out of the back of the mirror with bloody fingers, she notes she's been here for at least a week, if not more. It isn't the most precise method of time keeping; after all, she doesn't know how long she spent unconscious after –A had stricken her in the face until she woke on this very floor, but she's been keeping track ever since. In this week, she has not seen any food. Well, she's certainly _seen_ food; she's seen pad Thai and pizza and cheeseburgers and French toast and chocolate éclairs and lasagna and a Thanksgiving dinner with all the trimmings. But she's just imagined these things, right down to the smell, and not a single morsel of food has passed her lips. –A has rewarded her, each day, with a cup of water and Spencer does what she can to ration it out to last her the entire day. Often, she can't. Often, she's so desperate for _anything_ to fill her stomach that she upends the glass rapidly, right down to the very last drop, and her stomach rages like a storm, famished and raring for more.

But more, of course, never comes.

Looking at her reflection has become almost as excruciating as the hunger pains that plague her stomach to no end. Her hair is oily, dirty and stringy, matted and tangled in many places, and she wonders if she'll ever be able to get a brush through it again. Exhaustion and sleep deprivation have painted permanent dark circles beneath her eyes because it's been a week, perhaps longer, and she's gotten maybe two, maybe three hours of sleep in total, out of fear of what he'll do to her while she's unconscious. She's thin; she's so very, very thin and she didn't exactly have a ton of body weight to sacrifice in the first place. She pulls her knees up to her chest and all her ribs grind together, bare bone on bone, protruding from her skin as if begging for cover. She'd read about this in biology two years ago; when a human being begins to starve to death, the body does everything in its power to stay alive, relying on the fat stores in various parts of the body and eating those to make up for the lack of sustenance in the stomach. It is only after the body has used up all of its fat resources that the person dies; by that time, the person is literally just skin and bones. Spencer glances down at her arms, her legs, her small, concaved stomach and realizes she's halfway there.

She's starving and distractions don't help too much to take her mind off of the hunger, but still, she tries. She thinks a lot about school, about how much she's missing, about how valedictorian is _so_ out of the realm of possibilities now, it's not even funny. She thinks about the kids at school and wonders what they're thinking about this whole thing. She doesn't have many close friends outside of the three girls, but she has her acquaintances and she wonders what Andrew's thinking, what her teammates must think, about her absence. It had all happened so suddenly; first Mona had been murdered, then the girls had gone missing… Surely, students must be on edge and parents must be losing their minds at the sudden tragedies striking the high school population. But then she thinks about the events that transpired two years ago, when Alison had gone missing, and thinks otherwise. No one missed her; no one had mourned her. In fact, they'd all been glad she was gone and not one single person had even batted an eyelash over her disappearance. And she understands why; really, she does. She's just hoping her classmates do not feel the same about the four of them.

She spends a lot of time thinking about her family- her sister, her parents, even Jason. She can picture their reactions perfectly without even having to see them. Jason would turn his grief and frustration inward, as he had in the wake of Alison's disappearance, and wonder if it was something he did that had caused their kidnapping. Melissa would cry; to the outside world, she'd appear the angst-ridden sister who desperately missed and mourned her sister, but behind closed doors, Spencer's not sure Melissa would actually care too much that she was gone. They hadn't ever exactly liked each other and it's something Spencer would like to fix if and when she ever gets out of here. As for her parents, she knows her father would go on a rage-filled rampage, ready to sue every single resident of Rosewood until his daughter is found and then go back to basically ignoring her, ruling the town with an iron fist. Her mother would at least care enough to make an effort to join in the search herself and would continually breathe down the Rosewood PD's necks until they produced the result she was looking for. She would most likely be at that department everyday, spewing legal jargon for hours and citing every rule in the book until Spencer was back under her roof. The very thought alone brings a grim smile to Spencer's lips.

And of course, despite the ache it ignites within her heart, Spencer spends most of her time thinking about Toby. She can't bear the thought of what's going through his mind; he'd been shot, he'd fallen unconscious, and what had he found when he'd awoken? Not her, but, likely, news of her absence instead. She knows him and knows that he'd had the tendency, in the past, to hide away from the world when he was hurting, to wallow in his own despair away from the prying eyes of those who loved him, and wonders if this is what he's doing now. He's changed quite a bit in the two years she's loved him and she has no doubt that though he may have been knocked down by the news of her kidnapping, he likely hadn't _stayed_ down, not anymore. She's sure he's out there, doing everything he can to bring her home, and this thought is what has carried her through her darkest moments this past week of hell has brought her. She truly believes, in her heart, in her _soul_ , that he's recovered from his injury and is back on the case, fighting like hell for her protection and safety, just as he'd promised.

Spencer allows herself one moment, only one, to entertain the possibility that perhaps he _hadn't_ survived the gunshot wound, but she does everything in her power to erase that from her thoughts. She would rather die in here than face the fact of Toby's passing.

She's done so once. A second time may actually kill her.

Spencer's starving, but nothing's changed, and she begins to think, again, of ways to escape, because she has no intention of remaining here and allowing –A the satisfaction of her death. She has no idea how to get the door open and she's not sure what awaits her if she ever does; a sure death, perhaps? But a quick and painless one will always beat the alternative- starving here on the floor until she descends into cardiac arrest. She always comes back to the window and she's fairly certain (only fairly; she's been hallucinating quite a bit, after all) Alison had left this way but every time Spencer goes near it, it's merely a black wall. Even if she could manage to wedge herself between the window and the wall (a feat nearly impossible, even at her current weight), she doesn't know if the fall is five feet or fifty. So she always comes back to her second option- the door. She's sure it's electronically coded; there's a slot near the bottom that opens at the same time every day for –A to push her routine cup of water through and Spencer wonders if there's a way she can get it open from this side, if she can fit her arm through, if she can reach the handle, if she'll ever be able to find the other girls.

She wonders if this is where –A had brought Alison that night two years ago. She wonders if Alison, too, is still here, somewhere.

She wonders how Alison has survived this for so long.

Just then, the slot in her door clangs open and Spencer sits up hastily, her spine as straight as an arrow, because she's been keeping track as best she can and according to her calculations it is much too early in the day for her daily cup of water (or perhaps night; time of day is quite arbitrary in here). Instead, a switchboard is pushed through, falling to the floor with a gentle thud before the slot slams closed once more. Curiosity gets the best of her and she crawls forward, her eyes widening in horror at the sight of three glaring red buttons, a photograph of each of her best friends underneath. She grips the switchboard with both hands, staring at the tortured looks on all her friends' faces and wonders in terror what this could possibly mean. Could pressing one of these buttons set her friends free? Or would it send them to an untimely and most likely excruciatingly painful death? She sits in the middle of the floor, cross-legged and wide-eyed, unsure of what to do next.

Luckily- or perhaps unluckily- her newest toy comes with instructions.

 _Choose one or all will suffer. Ten, nine, eight…_

Spencer stares at the three buttons and has no idea what –A has in store for them now. They've been suffering for two whole years; what could possibly be different about this moment?

 _Choose one or all will suffer. Seven, six, five…_

She swallows hard and wonders how she could possibly choose the person –A would inflict pain upon. She loves each one of these girls like they're her own flesh and blood.

 _Choose one or all will suffer. Four, three, two…_

Whirling around in all directions, Spencer searches every last inch of the room for the speaker or hidden camera but comes up empty. The voice is tinny and mechanical and seems to come from nowhere. She doesn't know what to do. _It's psychological_ , she thinks. _If I don't choose, nothing will happen._

 _Choose one or all will suffer. One._

She stares hard at the switchboard but does not press a single button. And she's right; nothing happens.

At first.

Suddenly, she hears three distinctive, piercing screams that cut right through her and she knows them so well she can pinpoint exactly to whom they belong, but before she can react, the entire floor seems to come alive and she is screaming right with them. White-hot electricity radiates from the ground where she rests and no matter how quickly she tries to scurry away, no matter what direction she crawls, it does not cease. She cannot escape the current, for it has set her skin ablaze, boiled her blood, raised her hair on end. She screams and screams until she can taste blood and she's dying, she's sure she's dying, this is what it feels like to _die_.

As quickly as it begins, it ends. She's left shaking, twitching, on the floor, tears dried to her cheeks.

 _Commence punishment_.

The slot opens again and her cup of water awaits her. Eagerly, like a refugee stranded in the Sahara, Spencer moves toward it, unable to see straight, barely able to move. The electric current had vaporized every last liquid in her body and she's parched. But just as she reaches the doorway again, the black gloved hand holding her cup of water lets go effortlessly and it careens to the floor, water cascading out in all directions, absorbing instantly into the floor. Spencer hobbles clumsily, drunkenly, over to the doorway, and reaches for the cup, but it's bone dry and she knows –A well enough to know she won't be getting another one. Her mouth feels like she's swallowed a handful of sand, like she's chewed a whole pack of sidewalk chalk, and her tongue weighs at least twenty pounds. She needs that water. She's sure she'll die without it.

 _Choose one or all will suffer. Ten, nine, eight…_

Spencer groans in pain and glances at the switchboard she's abandoned in the middle of the floor. She hadn't expected –A would want to play again so soon, but perhaps she hadn't been thinking clearly. Dragging her exhausted, battered body over to the center of the room again, Spencer glances down in agony at the three faces looking up at her. _How do I choose? How can I hurt one of you?_

 _Choose one or all will suffer. Seven, six, five…_

Tears sting the backs of her eyes as she contemplates the choice she's about to make, realizing in anguish that her face is on the three other switchboards and the girls are in identical torture chambers of their own, plagued with the very same _Sophie's Choice_. Her heart hammers against her chest and she pleads with them to understand. _Please forgive me. Please forgive me for what I'm about to do._

 _Choose one or all will suffer. Four, three, two…_

She can't do this. She physically cannot do this. Aria's always been a little spitfire, but Hanna would cut your neck if you looked at her funny, but Emily's been so strong and so brave since the beginning…

 _Choose one or all will suffer. One._

Squeezing her eyes shut, Spencer hits the switchboard at random, letting out a sob as her hand collides with the cool metal. She braces herself and has no idea who she hit until she hears the scream. _Aria._

Instantly, her own floor awakens once more and involuntarily, screams of agony are ripped from her lungs. She's hot all over and she can't stop trembling and she's screaming, screaming, screaming, and she's in so much pain and she suddenly smells something burning and it's probably her clothing or maybe her hair but it _hurts so much_ and she can't stop screaming and she doesn't know where she is or what day it is or who their torturer might be but she wants him to _fry_ for this, fry, like she's frying right now, and it hurts, it hurts, it hurts _so much_ , and someone, one of the girls, someone had chosen her but it doesn't even matter because she chose too.

And then it stops. Her breathing is hitched, her heart skips a beat and then two, abnormal. She can't stop twitching, shaking, quivering.

 _Commence reward._

The slot opens once more and, tiredly, Spencer merely glances in its direction. A small drawstring bag is pushed through before the slot bangs shut again. And then there is silence.

Carefully, Spencer reaches for it as if it contains the smallest of bombs. But when she opens it, she's delighted to find a small crust of bread, no larger than her fist, a block of cheese of the same size, and a cluster of grapes still attached to the vine. _Food, glorious food!_ Spencer reaches for the bread first, ripping it in half hungrily and shoving it roughly into her mouth, relishing in the way it tastes on her tongue, sustenance after so long without. She chews ferociously, rapidly, telling herself to pace herself because she doesn't know when she'll see food again and she doesn't, of course, want to choke, but she's so desperate and _so_ hungry and it's been so incredibly long, she cannot take her own advice. The bread and cheese are gone in seconds. She glances at the cluster of grapes and wonders if she should ration them out.

She knows she should. She also knows she won't.

Body still humming with electricity, Spencer plucks each grape off the vine, one by one, and eats like she's never seen food before, slumping helplessly against the wall.

She wonders if she'll see food again.

* * *

He's been working tirelessly, day in and day out, in order to find her and this means sleep comes easily. Unfortunately, the nightmares do, too.

In one, he never finds her. He spends his entire adulthood searching, combing every inch of Rosewood, and then Pennsylvania, and then the country looking for his girlfriend and her three best friends. He's well into his thirties when their families give up, hold memorial services presuming their children have perished, and thank Toby for his efforts but plead with him to put it to rest. But he has a _feeling_ ; he knows Spencer's counting on him, that it's been years but she hasn't given up on life so why should he give up on her? The Hastings' divorce, the Montgomerys move abroad, Ashley Marin sinks into despair and the Fields' leave Pennsylvania altogether but still, Toby does not give in. He comes close, once, when he finds four bodies in an unmarked grave in Utah, but DNA comes back and it isn't the girls and he's relieved. He drives himself mad with his conquest, eating, sleeping and _breathing_ the chase, and his father has him committed, just like his mother. He spends the rest of his days wandering Radley Sanitarium, agitated, and so eager to get back out there, to find her, to prove himself. At night, he believes he hears his mother singing and when she comes to him, corporeal and glowing, he tells her all his sorrows and she holds him as she did when he was a child. _I believe you, honey. I've always believed you._

In another, he finds her physically, but mentally, she's gone for good. They track and trace the son of a bitch who'd captured these four girls down to an abandoned shed in the middle of nowhere. There isn't any running water or electricity and the girls are huddled in a corner, clinging to one another, covered in mud and blood and feces. They're so wary of human contact that the moment one of Toby's officers comes near them, they shriek and cry and lash out, scratching a pretty sizeable chunk out of the officer's cheek. It's just about the saddest sight he's ever seen but what scares him most is how _realistic_ it feels and how easy it is to accept that this is what they've become. Tortured into insanity, forced into darkness from which they will never recover. They cannot answer simple questions. They do not know their own names. When they're forcibly pried apart, Toby hesitantly approaches Spencer, who merely glances emptily in his direction, and, keeping his hands in her line of vision, he reaches out tentatively and takes her hand. She doesn't pull away. He pushes a strand of matted hair away from her face. She doesn't move a muscle or make a sound. He collects her in an embrace and tells her everything is going to be okay, that she's safe now, that he'll never let anything happen to her so long as they both shall live, and then she breaks, pushing away from him, screeching, collapsing on the ground, combusting. She doesn't know who he is. Worse, she doesn't know who _she_ is. And Toby visits her everyday in Radley, but they've got her on so much medication, she sits, comatose, in the corner and doesn't hear a word he says. He spends everyday with the girl he loves and spends every night mourning the one he's lost.

But in the worst one, he finds her, but it's already too late. –A turns out to be some creep, some older man who was obsessed with Alison and her friends, and he's been hiding them in plain sight all along. There's an apartment building by Hollis where he kept them for six weeks and once they have him shackled and en route to prison, they go in and begin their search and rescue mission. There are walls full of evidence, photos of the girls plastered on every surface, and detailed descriptions of their everyday lives in true stalker fashion. They split up, Toby's team and he, knocking down doors, peering through closets, pulling apart the paneling to see if he's hidden them somewhere. And then Toby gets this strange, eerie feeling that makes his hair stand on end and it leads them to the basement of the complex, which already reeks with the strong scent of death. Bile begins to rise in his throat and his heart is pounding so loudly it echoes off the brick walls and he _knows_ but he cannot bear the thought. There's an industrial sized freezer and a dumpster and both are excruciatingly good hiding places for bodies. Turns out, he's used them both and just as Toby's trying to grasp the discovery of Hanna and Emily tossed carelessly into the dumpster, a colleague of his yanks open the freezer and Aria and Spencer tumble out, frozen and lifeless, onto the floor. He falls to his knees, gets sick twice, and then crawls over to her body, grasping her shoulders with shaking hands. Tears fall onto her motionless face, lips blue, eyelashes crispy with frost, and he pulls her against him, cursing his timing. He hadn't been quick enough. He hadn't found her in time. He hadn't done _enough_. He'd failed her and now she's gone.

This one always rips him from sleep, his pillow soaked through with tears, his body trembling with grief. It's the dream he has most often. It's the dream he'd most like to forget.

It's the dream he's just had right now.

He bolts upright in bed, his chest heaving, tears still pouring from his eyes. He clenches them shut again, wiping at his cheeks, and inhaling a deep, calming breath to get his subconscious to reset itself once more. He has no doubt one of these dreams will plague his mind again; it's like watching the worst possible rerun on repeat for the rest of his days. Pushing back the blankets on his bed, Toby stands and makes his way to the kitchen for a glass of water. The cool liquid refreshes him but only for a moment. The night only heightens his fear and he can't stop thinking about her. It scares him when he thinks about it- never seeing her again. He thinks about the sorry life he'd had before her and thinks about all she brings to his life, now, and how he'd never have that again if she were to never be found, and it scares him so much, his heart begins to race. Spencer Hastings is his entire world; she's always _been_ his entire world. And right now, at this very moment, it feels like his world has stopped, like everything is moving in slow motion, like everyone around him is rushing by at the speed of light, but Toby is standing completely still.

He drains his glass and sticks it in the dishwasher, padding softly back to his bed. Flipping his pillow to a side not drenched in his sorrow, Toby lies down and closes his eyes, trying desperately to have a nice, easy, dreamless sleep. It never comes. Instead, the minutes tick by and the moon and stars dance along the omniscient blanket outside, but he cannot get her out of his head. He wonders if she's being fed, if she's sleeping, if –A's hurting her over and over. He wonders if she's trying to get out or if she's given up hope. He wonders and wonders until it eats away at his resolve and he rolls to the other side of the bed, the one belonging to her despite the fact that they do not live together, and the pillow she regularly sleeps on still smells of her, her sweet fragrance lingering in the fabric. Toby clings to this feeling, buries his face in the pillow, and eventually, finally, falls asleep.

He dreams he finds her, or at least he thinks he does, a dozen times, but each time he reaches her, it's not her face, it's not her body, it's not her.

She's always _just_ out of reach.

* * *

He spends the night alternately tossing and turning and having terrible, awful dreams and wakes hours later, groggy.

Caleb texts him and asks if he'd like to meet for coffee so they can begin to hash this thing out and, wanting desperately to escape his apartment of horrors, Toby agrees. He dresses and heads downstairs to The Brew, securing a table in the back corner so as not to be bothered before ordering and awaiting his liquid caffeine. In moments, Caleb's there too and he looks just about as exhausted as Toby feels; clearly, sleepless nights and torturous nightmares have been plaguing his best friend's mind just as equally. They sit and sip identical coffees in silence for a while, because as adamant as they both are about finding this psychopath who had taken their girls, they truthfully don't know where to begin in the search. Toby wants to bring Spencer home more than he wants to do just about anything right now, but he has absolutely nothing to work with.

"So…" Toby opens, watching the steaming liquid swirl in his mug. "Got any ideas?"

"No." Caleb frowns. "You know what's ironic?"

"What?"

"The girls might have an idea," He sighs but there's a wry grin on his face. "The girls might know where we could start looking, if they were here."

"Yeah." Toby repeats. "If they were here."

"They were suspecting so many people. It literally could be anyone." Caleb says. "They could be _anywhere_."

"Well maybe if we try to figure out a pattern with the messages they were sent," Toby suggests. "Obviously, after Mona was hospitalized. She hurt them immensely, but this person… This wasn't an amateur. This person who took the game from her is just…"

" _Sick_." Caleb finishes. "I think that's somewhere we can start, though. You called it a game. This person has always treated them like they're dolls in some life-sized dollhouse."

"Yes and that night Mona died," Toby points out. "He sent them on a wild goose chase that resembled a real-life version of _Clue_. He thinks this whole thing is a game and he always has. It's like he has no regard for their lives; it's all just a ruse."

"You know what? He's also used a lot of callbacks to nursery rhymes and childish things like that." Caleb adds. "The singsong texts-"

"They always rhymed," Toby nods. "Always."

"But," Caleb sighs. "What do we do with this information? I don't know anyone who likes dolls and games and nursery rhymes."

"Mona did." Toby says. "But Mona's dead."

"Unless…" Caleb trails off. "Look, they never found Alison's body, right?"

"Right."

"And the girls think she's still alive, right?"

"Yes," Toby hesitates. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking," Caleb explains. "What if she's been the mastermind behind this all along?"

Toby frowns, but isn't shocked; honestly, he's had the very same thought more than once. "It actually would make a lot of sense. She tortured the girls when she was alive; or, _around_. And if she is still alive, why would that suddenly stop?"

"Exactly." Caleb nods. "It wouldn't."

"But if it is her, if it's been her since Mona was committed, would she really take it so far as to kidnap and torture her best friends?" Toby asks. "I mean, I know Spencer used to say she put them through hell just so they could prove they were _really_ her friends, but this is going a bit far, don't you think?"

"Well she's a sociopath. I don't think she's in her right mind." Caleb replies. "And if you try to think like her… She fakes her death. She fabricates a story about being kidnapped and shows herself only to the girls to prove she's still alive, knowing this will drive them crazy and no one will believe them no matter what they say. She tells them she's in danger and they go after her, but she kidnaps them the same way she allegedly was and then reveals herself once she knows they're trustworthy again. It's sick, yes, but if you look at it like that, it kind of makes sense."

"Okay, so let's say she is this person. Let's say Ali's –A." Toby says. "Where would she take them?"

"I don't know." Caleb shrugs. "Any ideas? I never knew her. You did."

"I did." Toby replies. "But I never knew her very well. She made my life a living hell and I tried to stay away from her, after that. I definitely didn't know any of her secret hiding spots."

Caleb glances up as the door to The Brew opens and a new patron enters. Nodding towards the entryway, he asks, "You want to bet _he_ does?"

Toby turns and comes face to face with Jason DiLaurentis, who had joined the line at the counter upon entering, but has since abandoned his conquest for coffee and instead comes over to where Toby and Caleb are perched at the table, nodding in greeting. "Hey. This where the meetings are held?"

"You bet." Caleb confirms and motions towards the open chair. "Take a seat."

He does so and immediately asks, "What do we know so far?"

"The girls are gone. This masked murderer that goes by the pseudonym '-A' is most likely the one who took them." Toby says. "And… end of list."

Caleb adds, "I realize that's not much to go by-"

"That's nothing to go by." Jason interrupts. "You don't have any leads?"

"We don't have _anything_. When this person took them, he or she didn't leave a single drop of evidence." Toby goes on. "They were gone without a trace."

"I want to help." Jason tells them. "I want to help any way I can. I am not losing another sister to this monster."

At this, Toby and Caleb share a glance, and this does not go unnoticed by their third party. Immediately, he demands, "What? What's going on?"

"Jason," Caleb asks gently. "Have you considered the possibility that Alison might be behind this?"

"How could Alison be behind this?" Jason implores. "She's been dead for two years."

Toby questions, " _Has_ she?"

"Oh good. You've been sipping on Spencer's Kool-Aid too, huh?" Jason rolls his eyes. "She's _dead_. You will not convince me otherwise. Her body is out there, somewhere, and I'm going to find it so I can finally lay my sister to rest."

"But have you thought about-?"

"No. I don't need to think about it." Jason shakes his head. "Alison is dead. This psycho- this sick fuck who took the girls most likely used the 'Ali's alive' ruse to lure them into his trap so he could have his way with them just like he did my sister. And you two need to be careful, because you sound like you're falling for it, too."

Toby contemplates this and wonders if this is true. Had the girls become prey just because they had followed a false glimmer of hope that their friend might actually still be alive? He shakes his head of these thoughts; he doesn't want to think about it. It's truly unbearable. "Okay well… Do you have any ideas?"

"No. I've got nothing." Jason says. "That's why I came to you guys. You're closer to them than I am. I assumed you'd have some answers by now."

"Well, you know what happens when you assume."

"Hey," Toby cuts off what would likely be an indignant retort from Jason. "Can you still get us past firewalls or whatever you call them and get into someone's computer?"

"Sure," Caleb nods. "But you don't have –A's computer, do you? That might've saved us _a lot_ of trouble."

"No." Toby shakes his head. "I don't have –A's computer, but Ezra-"

"Ezra?" Caleb pulls a face, but then realization dawns on him and his eyes widen. "Oh, _Ezra!_ "

"He was monitoring every single thing the girls did and he likely still has records of everything –A sent them." Toby explains. "If we can get into his computer and his files-"

"-then I can get ahold of a message or two that –A sent, trace the IP address and track it using a GPS. We find –A's lair, we find –A, we find the girls." Caleb nods. "Toby, you're a genius. Why didn't we think of this sooner?"

"Ezra," Jason pulls a face. "That guy's a creep."

"Tell me about. But he's about to be a useful creep." Toby grins but then falters a moment, remembering. "Wait… We'll never get into his place. He's still in jail."

"And Aria could've let us in," Caleb reasons. "But… you know…"

"Wait," Jason points out. "He lives on Westmoreland Ave, right? In that apartment complex across from the park?"

"Yeah, why?"

"We own that place." Jason grins. "I mean, DiLaurentis Properties does. I can get us in."

"You can?"

"Sure." Jason nods. "I can cite code checks, building maintenance, open house, whatever. We're in."

Euphoria fills Toby's veins and for once, he feels like they're _actually_ making progress. But relief and excitement do not stay; the door jingles open and when Toby turns to see who's entered the coffeehouse, he tenses. Tanner, in full uniform, saunters up to the counter, places an order congenially, and then notices him, sitting in the back and staring hard. Her visage turns sour and her mouth twists into a frown. _Be cool. You're not doing anything wrong_ , Toby tells himself, but his stomach still churns and his heart still bangs against his ribcage as she takes slow and steady footsteps towards him, her hands shoved roughly into her jacket pockets. She takes a moment to glance at the men on either side of him, but does not extend a hand or introduce herself. For an odd reason unbeknownst to him, Toby's glad; he's not here to make nice and he's not going to pretend just for his friends' sake.

Tanner stares at him, her cold eyes boring into his, and says, "Officer Cavanaugh."

"Detective Tanner." Toby returns with just as much enthusiasm, standing his ground.

"I surely hope you are not discussing what I think you're discussing with civilians. And out in the open, here, with so many witnesses." Tanner tells him. "You're off the case. I do hope you remember that."

"I don't know what you're referring to." Toby replies, shrugging. "I'm simply having a cup of coffee with my friends."

"Right." Tanner purses her lips. "Coffee and conspiracy. The taste Rosewood loves."

She turns to go and Jason asks, "That's your boss?"

"Not really," Toby says. "She took me off her case."

"She's brutal." Caleb replies. "Even worse in person than she is on TV."

"That's why we have to find the girls and _fast_." Toby explains. "The second we prove her wrong, she'll never want to show her face in this town ever again."

* * *

She's been fighting _so_ hard, but eventually, she slips.

She falls asleep.

In her dream, she's chasing something through her backyard, anger and adrenaline pumping through her veins. Whatever she's chasing has just darted behind the shed and Spencer reaches for a shovel lying in the grass, gripping the cool metal in both her hands. The winds are whipping her hair all around her face, knotting in tangles at her shoulders, and when she glances down, she notes she's wearing that same argyle sweater, the high collar, the dark jeans. It's _that night_ ; Spencer races around the shed and finds Alison on the ground, dirt under her fingernails, her hair matted with blood at her crown. She whirls around, eyes narrowing, and for reasons unbeknownst to Spencer, she is filled with an overwhelming sense of hatred for the girl on the ground. She raises the shovel over her head and Alison grins maniacally. _What are you going to do, Spencer?_ The blonde teases, her voice shrill. Wild. _Hit me? Kill me? You don't have the guts. You're not a killer, Spencer. You're nothing._ The shovel comes down and collides with Alison's skull with a sickening crack. Over and over again, Spencer beats Alison into the ground until the grass is spattered with blood and brains and she finally, _finally_ , feels free.

She awakens with a start, feeling achy and ill and uneasy, tears stinging her eyes, her breathing incredibly shallow.

And then, she notices the blood.

She's lying in a pool of it and it's painted her sweater, stained her arms and legs. Horrified, Spencer does everything she can to try and scrub it off of her skin, feeling all over to try and locate the wound even though she feels no pain. She's not sure it's her blood but then, if it isn't, whose is it and how did it get here? _It's Alison's_ , she immediately panics and a few tears spill down her cheeks. _You just killed her, remember?_ But she couldn't have; she remembers that night vividly. They drank, they joked, it rained. Thunder had crashed in the skies above, lightning illuminated even their darkest secrets, and then they'd fallen asleep. When they awoke, Alison was gone. _But where did she go?_ It's the question that has plagued Spencer and her friends for two years. And in moments like these, after nightmares like _that_ , it's her anxiety-ridden mind that always fills in the blanks. _She went outside. You followed. She said something that set you off, like she always did. You argued. You grabbed the shovel. She threatened you. And you silenced her. Forever._

Shaking her head, Spencer rips the sweater off of her body and tosses it over the pool of blood. _Out of sight, out of mind_.

She scrambles towards her bedroom door and catches sight of herself in the mirror. Bloody, dirty, exhausted. She looks like the heroine at the end of a horror film.

Reaching upwards, her hand clasps over the door handle and she twists. Every day she's been here, she's tried the door, perhaps foolishly, to no avail.

Except today. The handle gives way and the door clicks open.

Adrenaline courses through her bloodstream and she's awake, now. Without thinking, Spencer scrambles out of her bedroom and into the hallway, darkness rising and all-encompassing. She pulls herself to her feet, bracing the doorframe for support, and she's so weak and unstable, she feels like a baby deer taking its first steps. She can't see _anything_ ; her "bedroom" may have been a torture chamber, but it was well lit and it's such a sharp contrast from this hallway where everything is bathed in darkness. Taking a tentative step forward, Spencer feels her way along the wall, moving ever so slowly as her eyes slowly begin to adjust to the lack of light. She cannot see, but she can hear, and from what sounds like just a few feet away, another door clicks open and there are footsteps on the hardwood floor. Spencer's heart begins to race and she's sure that this is the moment she comes face to face with –A and meets a sure death, all in one.

But then, the figure speaks. "Hello? Is someone there?"

 _Hanna_. Relief floods her veins and Spencer clears her throat, her voice sounding foreign even to her. "Hanna? It's me."

"Spence?" Hanna replies, painfully disoriented. "Where are you? I can't… I can't see _shit_."

"Hold on," Spencer says and her eyes adjust just a bit more. She can just make out Hanna's form. Moving forward, she reaches out and grabs her friend's hand and Hanna grips back _hard_. "Are you okay?"

"No. Are you?"

"Of course not."

In moments and from the two other doors at their end of the hallway, Aria and Emily emerge and for once, Spencer's grateful for the dark. She's not sure she could stand to look her friends in the eye. Aria asks, "Could we please just not talk about what we just did?"

"I'm not sure I could even find the words." Spencer tells her and they all silently agree.

"I love you guys," Emily emits, her voice wavering. "And I'm sorry."

They pull one another into a collective embrace and fall apart together, as they always have. Spencer knows each one of these girls, herself included, has been tried and tested and tortured in the very same way. She knows it had been –A's way of trying to get them to turn on one another, to implode, to resort to loneliness and self-doubt and despair. But they're all so traumatized by this experience and by every experience they'd had thus far that she knows she's bound to these girls for life. After all, for the four of them, their struggles have always and will always strengthen, not divide. When their group hug ends, there's a calm air of forgiveness resonating from each and every one of them and Spencer knows that, no matter how long it may take to recover from what they've just endured, her relationship with these girls has not been fatally damaged.

 _Welcome. Please follow the lighted pathway_.

Suddenly, the hallway illuminates on either side with glowing blue lighting along the baseboard, much longer than they had been expecting. It leads them away from their bedrooms of horror and though they'd like nothing better than to escape them, they're all collectively a bit wary of trusting anything –A suggests right about now. Hanna wonders, "What do we do?"

 _Welcome. Bienvenidos. Bienvenue. Wilkommen. Please follow the lighted pathway._

"I guess we don't have much of a choice." Aria replies and the girls begin to make their way forward. "We follow the lighted pathway."

As they do, Spencer glances in all directions, studying every last inch of this place as if the end of the lighted pathway would hold a final exam. Emily asks, "Did Alison visit any of you or just me?"

"I saw her." Aria confirms and Hanna nods.

"I saw her, too." She adds, "She called me Hefty Hanna again, that bitch."

"Well, to be fair, look at what you're wearing."

"Hey, I did _not_ dress myself in my 'Labor Day Weekend from two years ago' best." Hanna defends. "You're wearing it, too. Spencer looks like a politician's wife again. Aria's got the pink hair."

"I am ripping this out the second we get out of here." Aria vows. "I never want to see pink hair _ever_ again."

After a beat of silence, Hanna asks, "Where do you think he's taking us?"

"I don't know." Emily shrugs. "Somewhere he can torture the four of us together?"

"This place creeps me out." Aria shakes her head, shivering. "I want to get out of here. _Now_."

"I'm not sure that's in the cards right now."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure his intentions are to keep us in here forever."

"Well, that's not going to happen." Spencer announces and the others shoot her a questioning glance as she keeps a keen eye on every surface, runs her hand over the walls, commits the endless hallway to memory.

"It's not?"

"No. We're not going to _let_ it happen."

"How?" Aria wonders and, eyeing Spencer's ministrations a bit closer, she adds, "What are you doing?"

"Look, -A has given us three out of the four horsemen of the apocalypse, right? Conquest, War, and Famine." Spencer explains. "Do you know what the fourth one is?"

"Yeah." Emily answers after Hanna and Aria shake their heads. "It's Death."

"Exactly." Spencer confirms and the stakes have never been higher. "So if we can't find a way to escape, we're going to die in here."


	7. Seven

**Good morning, good morning! Long time no see, eh? I'm sorry it's been so long, but I've been away on the most fabulous vacation to end all vacations and I really didn't want to return. It was really nice to not have to think about this stuff for a while and I recommend it to each of you. Take a break. Your mental health needs it. :P Anyway, if you hated me for my absence, you're going to hate me even more for this chapter. I'm sorry. But didn't I warn you that it was going to get way, way worse before it got better?**

 **Thank you to everyone who took the time to read and review. I came back to the States with over a dozen emails waiting for me with reviews from all of you lovely people. I couldn't ask for anything more. So on with it, shall we? Let's get the ball rolling. Update Tuesdays are a thing again and I'm pretty much ready for you guys to see the end of this thing. Thank you for reading and thank you extra if you choose to review. I love all of you!**

* * *

Seven

"Stare at the dark too long and you will eventually see what isn't there." – Cameron Jace, " _Snow White Sorrow_ "

She doesn't quite know what to do with this newfound freedom.

Her bedroom door remains open and unlocked and days and days go by and it does not close. They spend every waking second together and every unconscious one lying in a close huddle in the middle of the floor, unwilling to let each other go slinking back into darkness and solitude. Other than the blue running lights on either side of the winding hallways, they remain in darkness, but this has become so ordinary, Spencer's not sure her eyes will ever be able to adjust to natural light again. Days come and go- at least, she assumes they do- and time passes and though they sleep sparingly, they never see their tormentor. The floors no longer come alive with electricity and they're provided with a small amount of food and water each day just so they'll survive. It's an awful, painful, slow and agonizing torture, but compared to what they'd been used to in the beginning, it's paradise.

Their brand new independence does, however, come with a price. –A is watching them, every second of everyday, and is keeping them on a very tight, very specific schedule. She shepherds them all around the house, forcing them to perform odd jobs- _chores_ , she calls them- before ending each day with what she calls family game night in the great room and a bedtime story detailing innumerous recollections of the terrible, gruesome things she's done. Each night, it's getting harder and harder for Spencer to ignore the sorry state she's in and the horrible tyrant currently holding them hostage. She feels as though her resolve, her mental stability, resembles a game of Jenga on its very last leg; one gentle tug, one false move, the slightest, quickest, most careful removal of the wrong block, and it'll all come tumbling down. Her determination is waning; her strength and resilience is at an all time low. She wants nothing more than to escape with her friends and with her life, but she's wondering if all that awaits her when she does is a straitjacket and a brand new bedroom with four padded walls.

The only thing she has to show for her weeks of traveling through –A's shop of horrors is that she has, more or less, memorized each and every last inch of this place. It's hallway after hallway, mysteriously sealed door after door, blind corner after corner. Spencer's bedroom is the one at the very end of the far hallway, but there is another hallway that juts in the opposite direction, one by Emily's bedroom door- which is fifteen steps away from her own- and then one directly across from that as well; a cross they're prophetically nailed to. It takes mere minutes, nearly a hundred steps (exactly ninety-seven; she counts every time) to get to the great room where game nights are held and there are three doors that they pass along the way. One holds cleaning supplies that they'd once used to clean an unidentifiable sludge off of the cement floor, the next is chock full of heavy, _heavy_ boxes that they had been lugging all morning and the third, the one at the very end of the hallway, around the corner… Well. They hadn't ever gotten close enough to find out. But it emits a bright glow from underneath and Spencer's guessing, wildly guessing, that it's their ticket out of here.

Crawling across her bedroom floor, Spencer reaches behind the mirror for the nail she'd pried out of it and carves another slash into the wall, eyes glazing over as she counts, as she does everyday, the time that's passed since she'd awakened here. This newest tick mark is number thirty and her eyes widen in realization. "Guys… We've been here for a month."

"A month? That's it?" Emily asks, shivering, her knees pulled up to her chest. "It feels like it's been a year."

"At least." Aria agrees. "I bet we missed prom."

"I think we did." Spencer nods. "It was supposed to be the second weekend in May and I'm fairly certain we're coming up on Memorial Day, at this rate."

"They better have elected me prom queen." Hanna announces and at the others' looks, she adds, "What? You don't think it would be in _extremely_ poor taste to let the kidnapped girl lose?"

"That actually makes sense." Aria smiles grimly. "It would be incredibly disrespectful to your memory to vote for anyone but you."

"So I was probably a shoe-in. I probably won. There's probably a crown and a sash waiting for me _right now_." Hanna says and then deflates. "And I'm here. _Trapped_."

"What do you think it's like at home?" Emily wonders. "Remember when Ali first went missing and there were manhunts and posters and her face on the news every night?"

"Yeah," Spencer nods. "And people would go to the police with the tiniest little detail, thinking they were helping, but they probably actually knew nothing."

"And everyone had their theories." Hanna chimes in. "She ran away with an older boyfriend or her parents sent her away because she got pregnant or she enrolled in boarding school overseas and didn't tell anyone. Everyone knew- everyone _thought_ they knew- and they always jumped at the chance to tell you."

"Yeah," Aria agrees. "And then eventually, after a while, her face stopped appearing on the news. The posters came down here and there. And everyone stopped caring. No one talked about her anymore. She wasn't ever found but… They all stopped looking."

"Exactly." Emily replies. "Do you think it's like that?"

"I don't know." Spencer finally answers after a beat of silence. "I have to believe for my own sanity that people are still out there, looking."

"You're right. Toby's on our side and he's on the inside, so-" Hanna stops abruptly as pain flashes across Spencer's face. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay." Spencer says, but her heart speaks differently. The last time she'd seen Toby, he'd been bleeding out on the forest floor and she doesn't know if he's alright, she doesn't know if he's _alive_ , and her entire soul aches whenever she thinks of him. It's not okay. She's not sure it ever will be.

There's a bit of an awkward silence, after that. Aria, after a minute, asks, "Do you know what I miss most of all? My toothbrush. I really, really just want to brush my teeth."

"Tell me about it. Such a mundane action but the second you lose it…" Emily shakes her head. "God, I'd _kill_ for some toothpaste right about now."

"Yeah. My teeth feel like they're wearing fuzzy slippers and I'm pretty sure my breath smells like a year-old quiche." Hanna adds. "I'm so sorry you're all sitting so close to me."

"Han, we all smell. We haven't showered in a month." Emily says. "Speaking of which- shampoo. I'd also kill to wash my hair."

"Ugh, I need a deep condition so badly," Hanna groans and, glancing at Spencer, she nudges her friend and asks, "How about you? Besides the obvious, what's the one thing you miss the most about home?"

"Coffee." Spencer replies without hesitation and Hanna rolls her eyes as the others laugh. _Of course_. Defending her decision, Spencer exclaims, "What? These withdrawal headaches have been no joke and I don't see –A handing out any Tylenol."

"Would you be careful what you say?" Emily urges, glancing around in all directions. "She can hear you."

"Over this shitty elevator music? I doubt it." Spencer hisses and it's true. There hasn't been an ounce of silence since their doors had been unlocked. Crickets, elevator music, crashing waves against the shore and falling rain have been playing over the PA system ever since.

Just then, four chimes ring into the air and dread creeps back into Spencer's veins. Aria says, "We should go. Four chimes means it's game time."

Quietly and begrudgingly, they get to their feet and follow the lighted pathway down the hall towards the great room, regardless of the fact that they already know the way. Again, Spencer feels her way downward, running her fingers over the familiar groove of the grains of wood along the chair rail, the peeling of the tacky wallpaper, the walls cold as if they're thousands of miles below the earth. Again, their path takes them around two corners, down two long hallways and away from that glowing door towards the end and again, it itches away at Spencer's resolve. She is so certain that it's their escape and she _just_ needs to figure out how to get to it without –A finding out and preventing them, locking them back in their respective torture chambers. Upon entering the great room, they find their game of the evening on the table in the center, four chairs surrounding the circular table. As they always do, they approach it warily.

Hanna steps closer and peers down, frowning almost instantly. " _Mystery Date_? That was Ali's-"

"My favorite game." Alison completes Hanna's thought, emerging from the shadows in the corner of the room. "Yeah. –A's a nostalgic little bitch, isn't he?"

Spencer squeezes her eyes shut, blinks, rubs them viciously. But when she reopens them, Alison's still standing there, so close they could reach out and touch her, and when Spencer glances in either direction, she notes the other girls' eyes are just as wide. Surely, Alison can't actually be here; surely, they've spent so long in the darkness and the solitude that they're going mad, descending into insanity, collectively hallucinating. But Alison grins as if she's expecting this reaction and says, "I'm sorry he did this to you. I tried so hard to help you see but in the end… It didn't even matter. I never wanted you to end up here. You have to know that."

"I don't think we know anything anymore." Aria replies. "How are you… I don't…"

"I don't understand." Emily shakes her head and Alison nods.

"I know you don't understand, Em." Alison says. "But you will. You're close. You're _so_ close to the end, now. Help me. Please bring me home."

"We're trying." Hanna informs her. "We've been trying since the beginning."

"I know. I always knew I could trust you. I've known since that Halloween freshman year." Alison smirks and they all grimace at the memory. "You're the best friends a girl could ask for. I don't think I ever thanked you enough."

Spencer purses her lips. "There's still time."

Alison shakes her head. "There's never enough time."

She treads gracefully to the doorway and says, "Do what he says. Play his game. But get out. _Please_ get out. And if you can, take me with you."

"Wait," Hanna blurts out. "Where are you going?"

Alison turns for just a moment and smiles, asking, "You know why _Mystery Date_ is my favorite? Because of the element of surprise. You'd roll the dice, move around the game board and collect the pieces to create the _perfect_ date with that tall blonde on the box. You'd collect the outfit- some cocktail dress with strappy heels- and the meal- a candlelit dinner, of course- and the activity- maybe a movie, maybe dancing, maybe a walk on the beach. And the whole time, you'd picture this perfect night out with that perfect blonde guy grinning up at you from the box. But then you'd spin the handle, open the door and who would be looking back? The brunette with the glasses. And you know what I loved about that, girls? _Life_ is like that. You're always opening doors you shouldn't; you're always finding things you didn't anticipate. And you know what else? It's never who you expected."

With that, she leaves them behind, mouths agape and staring. Aria's the first to ask, "What the hell?"

"You all saw her too, right?" Hanna asks and they roll their eyes collectively. "I swear, I don't know how much longer I can take this. I'm going crazy."

"Aren't we all?" Emily wonders. "I never looked at it that way; the game, I mean. But I don't think she was talking about this."

"Of course she's not talking about the game." Spencer replies. " _It's never who you expected_. Okay, but I don't know who to expect because so many people have been after us for so many different reasons, it could be literally anyone."

"At one point, while we were cooking on our bedroom floors," Hanna starts. "I began to wonder if maybe it was one of you guys."

"Me too." Emily nods. "And I wanted to believe, so _badly_ , that there's no way it could be but…"

"But if we were willing to electrocute one another," Spencer finishes. "Who's to say what else we'd do?"

"Guys." Aria shakes her head. "Are you out of your minds? If we can't trust each other in here, we can't trust _anyone_. I didn't believe, even for a second, that one of you was involved. I trust you girls with my life and I couldn't even dream up a scenario where one of you could do this to us. _None_ of you are that violent. _None_ of you are that far gone. But all three of you need to focus and not let your minds resort to that kind of thinking."

"Wow." Emily muses. "Since when did Aria become the voice of reason?"

"I don't know." Hanna replies. "But that was spoken like a true member of the –A team."

Aria narrows her eyes and Hanna backpedals immediately. "Too soon for jokes. Point taken."

"Let's just play the game." Spencer suggests and they remove the top, pulling out the game board, cards and pieces, beginning to play.

There's a grandfather clock that very much resembles the one in Spencer's living room back home on the far wall and throughout the endless rounds of _Mystery Date_ , she keeps her eyes fixated upon it. At eleven fifty-eight, she keeps very still, staring directly into the camera poised in the corner of the room and at that glaring red light, telling her it's recording. The others stop playing also, watching their friend instead of the moving characters on the game board, clearly curious and much more interested in whatever clever plan she's come up with this time. One minute later, at eleven fifty-nine, the elevator music stops, all is silent, and the red light on the camera switches off. At this, Spencer stands, walks toward it, and waves her arms as if a search and rescue helicopter has come to save them. Nothing happens. The girls stand too and come to join her in the corner, perplexed looks on all of their faces.

"Spence, what the hell are you doing?"

"Can you see me?" Spencer asks instead, still staring down the camera. "Can you hear me, you piece of shit?"

"Do you have a _death wish?_ " Emily hisses. "Shut up and sit down before he-"

"He's not going to do anything," Spencer cuts her off almost gleefully, suddenly breathless. Out of the corner of her eye, the clock keeps ticking. _Forty-five seconds_. "It's off; the camera, the music, everything. Everything cuts off at the same time every night- eleven fifty-nine. Haven't you noticed?"

"I guess." Aria shrugs. "What's your point?"

"The system resets itself every night." She explains hastily and glances at the clock again. _Thirty seconds_. "The music stops, the camera clears its memory, and then it all switches back on again at midnight. So for one whole minute, -A can't see or hear anything we do."

"Brilliant." Hanna beams and then falters a bit. "I think. What does that mean?"

"It means we're getting the fuck out of here." Spencer tells them and the seconds fly by. _Fifteen seconds_. "There's a door that leads outside. We're going to wait until midnight tomorrow. We're going to take it. And then we're going to run like hell."

"Are you crazy? We'll never get out of here in only a minute!" Emily shrieks and Spencer nods back towards the game table, where they sink back into their chairs.

"We don't have a choice." Spencer shakes her head. _Ten seconds._ "It's now or never. This is our only out and we have to take it before we die in here."

"But what about Alison?" Aria asks and Spencer frowns.

"I don't know what we can do for her." She sighs. _Five seconds_. "We'll just have to turn the police in this direction, once we get to them."

"Okay," Hanna nods. "Okay, but how are we going to-"

The clock strikes midnight and Spencer violently shakes her head. Crickets come over the PA system and that pesky red light on the camera blinks a murderous red. Aria tosses a card towards the center of the game board and shouts, "I win!"

 _Please return to your bedrooms for quiet time._

And they do, but silently. Exhaustion fills every step as they retreat, this time, to Hanna's room, gathering in the center on the floor. A package awaits them in a patch of dim, artificial light and when they tear it open, they find a small slip of paper with blood red writing and their final wooden horse, pale, with a cloaked skeleton upon it. Spencer sucks in a breath and says, "I was waiting for this one."

" _When the Lamb broke the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth living creature saying, 'Come'._ " Emily reads aloud, whispering out of fear of waking their tormentor. " _I looked, and behold, an ashen horse; and he who sat on it had the name Death; and Hades was following with him. Authority was given to them over a fourth of the earth, to kill with sword and with famine and with pestilence and by the wild beasts of the earth_."

All four of them know the significance of this, their final horseman of the apocalypse, and in the silence that follows, it weighs heavily on each of their shoulders. Hanna says, her voice small, "We might actually die in here."

"No." Spencer hisses, her voice sharp and quiet. "Tomorrow night. Midnight. We go."

They curl up on the hard, unforgiving floor, hearts racing, and do not sleep a single second.

* * *

He tries to focus on the task at hand; really, he does. But bicycle thieves and parking tickets pale in comparison to four teenage girls being kidnapped by a murderous psychopath.

Toby has multiple tabs open on his computer and he switches between them, writes down a few notes, and looks extremely busy and focused whenever Tanner walks by and glares in his direction. Truthfully, he's mentally checked out on this workday. It's been a little over a month since the girls have been gone and he's slowly going out of his mind with worry. Jason and Caleb had teamed up with him to basically ransack Ezra's apartment for his old equipment, but not much had come of it as of yet. Caleb's been working day in and day out combing through the encryption codes and tracking IP addresses that ultimately lead to nowhere and Toby's been trying to search for abandoned warehouses and apartment complexes this unknown person could possibly have taken the girls to while also trying not to get fired. Their plan, for the most part, has a course of action, now. But they don't have any leads on a location and they don't have any manpower and Toby is completely stumped on where to find either of those things.

A moment later, as he's furiously jotting down an address in his notebook, he hears a slightly timid voice ask, "Excuse me? Is Officer Toby Cavanaugh here?"

"Yeah. Back left corner."

At this, he glances up and comes face to face with Paige, who looks as though, at any moment, she could internally combust. Toby drops his pen, closes his notebook, and greets her warmly. "Hey, Paige. You look a lot better."

"I feel better. Physically speaking, anyway." She nods and when Toby motions for the chair in front of his desk, she thanks him and sinks into it. "I was just coming here to ask if you're any closer to finding Emily and the girls. I don't want to sound pushy, but-"

"No, you're not. I get it; you're worried sick. Me too." Toby nods and lowers his voice, eyeing the officers on either side of him. "I'm not supposed to talk about this. I'm not even supposed to be involved in this."

"But you are," Paige points out. "Come on, Toby, you know that they're innocent; that they were taken and didn't run away."

"I know."

"And I know you wouldn't let them drag Spencer's name through the mud like this." Paige continues. "I know you'd want to do everything in your power to find her."

"I wouldn't. I do." Toby shakes his head. "But I _can't talk about this here_."

"Please," Paige pleads with him, her eyes flooding with tears as she blinks rapidly, trying to keep them at bay. "Please don't shut me out, too. I want to help. I've always wanted to help. But Emily… And now this. I just want to help."

"We're trying our best." Toby tells her. "We don't have much to go by, right now. Did Emily tell you anything?"

"No." Paige replies miserably. "She always kept me in the dark and told me the less I knew, the better. She never told me anything. She wouldn't."

Toby frowns and a familiar feeling of sorrow and helplessness comes over him, then. He's been here; in the early throes of their relationship, Spencer kept so much of her life, so much of her torture, from him, it felt like he was only dating half of her. He'd understood of course; it wasn't intentional, but brought on by her intense fear and anxiety, and who was he to fault her for that? But just because he'd understood doesn't mean it hadn't frustrated and infuriated him; he'd never forced her to talk, he'd always been happy to wait until she was ready to tell him on her own, but he's also sure that many of their problems could have been solved had she decided to enlighten him much earlier than she actually had. Perhaps some of their problems might not have happened at all, but it does not do to dwell on the what ifs or the maybes. He understands where Paige is coming from and he's never empathized with her more in the short time he's known her.

Softening, Toby promises, "I won't shut you out. You can be as much of a part of this as you'd like. I know you're about as worried as I am and you just want to bring Emily home, safe and sound."

Paige nods and glances at her lap. "Thank you."

"But," Toby counters. "We know virtually nothing. So don't get frustrated with our lack of progress. The girls have completely vanished without a trace and this psycho who has them left nothing to go by because he does not want to be found."

Again, Paige nods, a bit warily this time. "Okay."

"Okay." Toby sighs and leans a bit closer, pushing his notebook towards her as well. "Let me- _quietly_ \- walk you through what we have so far."

As he does so, Tanner walks by again, eyeing Toby suspiciously, but he pays her no mind, promising Paige loudly that her bike will be returned to her as soon as possible before getting back down to business once Tanner is again out of earshot. He continues, "We're thinking, most likely, that this person is the same person who allegedly murdered Alison and by tricking the girls into thinking she's alive, they've fallen right where he wants them- into his lair. Essentially, we think that maybe… That he's going to…"

"Kill them." Paige finishes, her face pale. "Like he did with Alison."

"Yeah." Toby frowns. "That's more or less what our theory is. We could be totally wrong. This person might be someone completely different or not involved with Alison at all. She could, actually, still be alive for all we know. Without a body, it's hard to prove she's dead. But…"

"But your theory seems the most likely." Paige concludes a second time. "So two years ago, this person messed with Alison, kidnapped her and probably killed her. Now, he or she messed with the girls, kidnapped them and… It's a pattern."

"Exactly." Toby nods. "So we really just need to find out who could've messed with her."

"Well that could be anyone." Paige shrugs. "How are we ever going to narrow it down? The list of people Alison tortured was a mile long, as you and I both know firsthand."

"Yeah. Unfortunately, you're right." Toby says. "Which is why Caleb is trying to use Ezra's computer to track old –A messages and try to find the location from which they were sent. It's not much and it's not one hundred percent accurate, but it's the best we've got."

"Emily hasn't ever really talked about Alison; most likely because she probably thought it would upset me. And she wouldn't be wrong about that." Paige replies. "But… she did say something about Alison getting into it with an older guy on vacation somewhere."

"Cape May. Yeah." Toby nods. "We did know about that, but we always assumed it was Wilden. We'll never know because he's dead, and the only other people that were there are Melissa Hastings and CeCe Drake, who are both impossible to track down."

Paige bites her lip. "You sure about that?"

"Yeah. Melissa was in London last time I asked and as far as I know, she hasn't even had contact with her family in a while and CeCe-"

"No, I mean, are you sure they were the only ones there?" Paige asks. "Who told you about this?"

"Spencer." Toby says. "She said there was a photo of Wilden, Ali and CeCe and that they were all pretty pissed off when Melissa showed up and crashed their fun."

"A photo of Wilden, Ali and CeCe," Paige repeats. "But who took it?"

"I don't know." Toby shakes his head. "I guess I always assumed Melissa did, but if they were so pissed she showed up, they wouldn't ask her to, would they?"

"Someone else was there." Paige nods. "Someone else threatened Alison that weekend and we all just blamed Wilden because it was easy."

"Okay," Toby nods. "If I can get in touch with Melissa to find out where they stayed-"

"-I can find out who it was." Paige agrees without hesitation. "Please. Give me something to do. I want to contribute."

"I'll call her." Toby insists. "And get back to you after I do."

"Okay," Paige says and steals a sticky note and a pen, jotting down her number. "Text me."

"Will do."

She scrambles up and heads for the door as Toby uses his work phone to call Melissa from his desk, carefully scanning the room to be sure no one is listening in. She answers on the first ring and she's nearly bawling with relief, sure his call means he's found her sister, and it takes several minutes for him to get the guts to tell her he hasn't. But after she calms down just a tad, he drops the bomb on her and asks her who the fifth member had been that summer, way back when. Melissa, of course, claims she'd never seen a fifth person and tells Toby she'd been there to tell Alison to stay away from Ian- nothing more, nothing less. She does, however, remember exactly where they had all been staying and the moment she name drops, Toby ends the call, sends the hotel to Paige and receives a quick confirmation text from her in seconds: _Got it. Calling them immediately._

Not seconds after this, his cell phone rings and Toby answers immediately, despite the fact that personal calls while on the clock are a big no-no. "Hello?"

"Toby, it's me. Man, have Jason and I really hit the jackpot this time."

"Caleb," Toby says, his voice low. "Make it quick. I'm at work."

"I finally got past Ezra's firewalls and into the bowels of his computer and you wouldn't believe what I found. Absolutely disgusting. I can't believe Aria dated this piece of shit for as long as she did."

Toby frowns and begins to click through the database, searching for the date and time Ezra was arrested, wanting nothing more than to speak with this guy face to face. "Yeah, I know. And?"

"And it was chock full of videos of all the girls, Alison included, and copies of all the texts –A sent them, the messages, the death threats. We were there, too, but there was so much _data_ there that it crashed my laptop for a minute."

He comes up empty. Toby sighs, sure he'd had the date right, and instead, types Ezra's full name into the system, expecting his record to come popping up at any minute with the details of where he's being held. Instead, after the system clocks for a minute, the message reads: _No results found_. "Okay. But did you find anything after that?"

"I'm getting to that. We had everything, all his spy gear, and we thought hey, why not make this stuff useful and turn it on that son of a bitch instead? And what we found is that Ezra had copies of all of the texts –A sent the girls. Or, so we thought; they weren't copies, they were sent to _him_ as well as them."

This can't be right; he was arrested nearly a month ago, wasn't he? Toby speaks into the receiver quickly to say, "Caleb, hang on a second."

Leaning across his desk, he turns to his colleague, David Harrison, and asks, "Harrison, were you here the day they arrested Ezra Fitz?"

"That teacher from Rosewood High?" Harrison asks. "He was arrested?"

"Wasn't he?" Toby asks and Harrison shakes his head.

"Not that I know of." He shrugs. "What day was this?"

"April twentieth." Toby recalls. "I believe, anyway."

"I was here the whole day." Harrison shakes his head. "No one was brought in here and I _definitely_ would've remembered him. All the teenage girls in the town would be storming this office, wouldn't they?"

"Yeah, probably." Toby replies and thanks his friend, getting back to his own desk even more confused than he was before. "Okay sorry Caleb. What's going on?"

"Did you hear me? –A was sending the texts to the girls _and_ Ezra. Why would he do that?"

"I don't know," Toby shrugs. "But you and I have gotten them before, too. It's not that weird."

"It is when you look at what these texts entailed. And when you trace the encryption codes and the IP address from the service that sent them. The codes found in Ezra's computer matched the codes I traced to the cell phone. I tracked them down to a single location in Ravenswood and I think that if we go there, we'll find our lair. I think I know _exactly_ where that is."

"Ravenswood? The texts have been coming from a Ravenswood area code this whole time?" Toby replies and just then, his phone buzzes with a text from Paige. "Caleb, hold on again."

He pulls it away from his ear and the screen illuminates: _The name the hotel gave me was F. Scott Fitzgerald. Considering he's been dead for seventy years, what does that mean?_

"Oh my god." Toby exclaims and gets back to Caleb immediately. "You know where we're going?"

"Sure do."

"I know _exactly_ who we're going to find."

"Planning a date on company time, Cavanaugh?"

Toby glances up to see Tanner peering down at him with disdain and hastily, without a proper goodbye, he hangs up. "No. I'm sorry. It was an emergency."

"Was it?" Tanner asks, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Or were you just planning a rendezvous with your runaway girlfriend?"

Toby's eyes narrow and he slips his cell phone back into his pocket. "No."

She glances at his computer screen, then, and asks, "What case are you working on?"

"Um, none of them. I'm filing the reports you gave me from yesterday," Toby explains, pulling the keyboard closer with shaking hands. "Just like you asked."

"Just like I asked, huh?" Tanner replies. "Officer Cavanaugh, you haven't done a single thing like I asked since I employed you six months ago."

"Detective Tanner," Toby exhales tiredly. "With all due respect-"

"With all due respect to _you_ , Officer Cavanaugh, you've proven yourself unworthy of my trust." Tanner informs him and Toby feels the familiar pit of rage igniting within his stomach. "I would appreciate if you stopped trying to pull the wool over my eyes and started doing the job you were actually hired for."

"I'm sorry." Toby grits his teeth, clenching his fist. "I thought the job I was hired for was to serve and protect. I thought that in the eyes of the law, everyone is innocent until proven guilty. I thought that by accepting this position, I could maybe become the _one_ cop in this town who wasn't corrupt, but I guess I'm mistaken. I didn't realize that everything has to be your way or the highway."

Tanner frowns. "Watch it."

"Watch what? Watch you run this town into the ground because you're ruling it with an iron fist?" Toby exclaims, rising from his seat with fury so they're eye to eye. "Watch the killer of two girls get off scot-free because you're focusing on the wrong perpetrator? Watch four innocent girls get hunted down like dogs because you've held a vendetta against them since day one? Yeah, I'm already watching that. I don't like what I'm seeing and I'm trying to do something about it, so I'd appreciate it if you got out of my way."

"How dare you." Tanner shakes her head. "How _dare_ you speak to me that way! Your boss! Your _superior!_ "

"You're not any of those things, anymore." Toby shrugs. "You took me off the case, remember?"

"And with good reason!" She replies hotly. "Clearly, you are way too closely involved, personally, in this case to be able to handle it with a sound mind and without losing your head. I should've known better than to put a rookie cop fresh out of the academy on a case this high profile, but I thought I'd take a chance on you. Obviously, I've made some sort of mistake."

"Hey, don't do me any favors." Toby snaps back. "The fact that I'm a rookie has _nothing_ to do with this. It's that I'm opposed to the way you're running things and you trample out any opposition you face!"

"Oh, sure, make this about me." Tanner rolls her eyes. "Don't own up to the fact that you have a personal interest in this case, given its suspects. Pretend it's _not_ about that; you're very good at deception, Cavanaugh, and I have a clue where you've gotten that from."

"It's not about the girls." Toby shakes his head. "It could be four completely different girls and I'd still feel the exact same way. What you're doing isn't _fair_. It isn't right! Why can't you _see_ that?"

"Why can't _you_ see that you're only fighting me this hard because I'm trying to incarcerate your girlfriend?" Tanner shouts back. "You may think she's incapable of this, but DNA doesn't lie. _She_ does. You're just going to have to accept the fact that you don't know her as well as you think you do."

"This isn't about Spencer!" Toby argues and he's so _mind-numbingly angry_ he can barely see past his rage.

"This is _completely_ about Spencer!" Tanner yells. "It always has been! You would shit on your oath if it meant keeping that girl out of harm's way!"

"I quit." Toby shakes his head and surprises even himself the moment it comes out of his mouth. He wrenches the badge off of his uniform and drops it right in front of her, watching her eyes widen as the cool metal hits the desk with a satisfying clatter. "I quit. I'm done. I can't do this anymore."

"You _quit?_ " She sneers and watches as he pulls the holster off of his belt, surrendering his gun. "You can't just-"

"Detective!" A colleague of his bursts into the room, frantic. "They're here again! The parents! They're _pissed_."

Tanner sighs and glances back at Toby. "This is not over."

"Actually," Toby counters. "It is."

She narrows her eyes but turns away, following the agitated officer back towards the front of the department, and for a moment, before the door swings shut behind her, Toby can see- and _hear_ \- the angry voices emanating from each of the girls' parents. They come everyday, like clockwork, and rip Tanner a new one and it always leaves Toby feeling incredibly guilty and slightly pleased. Ashley Marin and Pam Fields cling to one another and cry, Byron and Ella Montgomery argue and ask a million questions Tanner never has the answer to, and Peter and Veronica consistently threaten the department with closure and Toby has no doubt that they could make it happen. He tries desperately to tune this out as he looks over his belongings upon his desk. There isn't much he'd care to bring with him, save for the photo of him and Spencer that's kept him going on even the toughest days. He picks it up gingerly and tucks it under his arm before nodding and leaving his police days behind.

"Hey! Cavanaugh! Wait!" Harrison stops him as he passes by, his voice lowering automatically the moment he's caught Toby's attention. "You're really leaving?"

"Yeah." Toby shrugs. "I won't be back."

"I'm sorry to see you go." He frowns. "You were a great addition to the team."

"Well, thanks." Toby replies, a bit warily. "And thanks for all your help in the beginning. I don't what I would've done without it."

"Listen," Harrison continues, halting Toby as he goes to leave again. "Don't think that everyone here is under Tanner's spell. I believe you, okay? There's no way in _hell_ these four girls murdered two of their friends. I just don't believe it for a second. But I do believe you."

"Wow. Thanks." Toby repeats, adding, "I never thought I'd hear that from anyone working here."

"Yeah," Harrison shrugs. "Listen… You're still going to try and find them, right? Bring 'em home and go after the real killer?"

"Well, that was the plan. But now that I quit, I won't have a way to recruit any manpower." Toby frowns. "I guess I didn't really think this through."

"Don't ask any of these guys. They don't have your back." Harrison shakes his head. "But I've got a buddy on the SWAT team. I met him back in the academy. And I think I can get you your manpower."

"The SWAT team?" Toby repeats and then nods. "Yeah, that's brilliant. That's perfect. Thank you."

"Yeah, I know the SWAT team sounds kind of intense," Harrison counters. "But I don't think this is a normal situation, so I don't think it should be handled by normal cops."

"You're right. It's not a normal situation." Toby agrees. "He's holding them hostage. And the sooner we get them out of there, the better."

* * *

"Right foot blue."

Hanna follows the directions, slides her foot across the plastic, and Aria spins again. "Spencer, left hand yellow."

Spencer contorts her body just a tad in an effort to reach the yellow circle beneath Emily, who's tented over the plastic like a human bridge. This evening when they'd arrived in the great room, the table and chairs had been pushed against the far wall and the game of _Twister_ had been laid out in the middle of the floor for them. The sound of crashing waves and seagulls flying have been playing over the PA system all evening, the grandfather clock chimes with every hour and that finicky red light on the camera in the corner of the ceiling is bright and glaring and unwavering. Spencer can't help herself; she plays the game as well as –A might expect, but on the inside, she's already gone. She can't stop her mind from addressing every contingency in the plan, going over each and every step they would need to take in order to pull it off, and mentally traveling down the hallways, around each corner, until they reach their destination. She's so, so tired. But they have no choice. They must go tonight.

It's eleven fifty-four. They have precisely five minutes.

"Emily," Aria continues monotonously, throwing a cautionary glance at the camera. "Right hand red."

"I can't… I can't reach." Emily strains and when she does, she topples downward, taking Spencer and Hanna down with her.

" _Ugh_ ," Hanna groans before pushing strands of hair out of her eyes and climbing to her feet, reaching for the spinner in Aria's hands. "My turn."

Again, Spencer glances at the clock. Two minutes.

"Okay Aria, left foot green." Hanna announces and as she does, the sounds of the sandy shoreline coming over the PA system stop immediately and she mouths, " _Do we go?_ "

"No. It's red." Spencer shakes her head, nodding a bit nonchalantly towards the camera, which remains on. "You meant left foot red, didn't you?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry." She replies. "I guess I got nervous."

"Who can blame you?" Aria shrugs and follows her instructions instantly.

It's eleven fifty-eight. Spencer's heart begins to race.

"Emily, right hand yellow."

"Spencer, left foot blue."

"Aria, right foot green."

And then, it happens; at eleven fifty-nine, as predicted, the camera switches off and Spencer does not hesitate to scramble off of the game board. "Let's go."

Hanna tosses the spinner aside and together, they sprint out of the doorway, heading into the dark hall. "We have sixty seconds. Sixty seconds!"

"We are not going to make it." Emily shakes her head. "There is no way we're going to make it!"

"Not with that attitude." Spencer assures her and Emily purses her lips.

"Are you sure that door you saw is the exit?" Aria asks. "We've seen a lot of doors."

"Yeah, we've seen a lot of things." Spencer replies. "And no; how could I possibly be sure? I was unconscious when I was brought here, just like you were."

"Who cares if you're not sure?" Hanna asks. "It's all we've got. We have to take the chance. If we don't…"

"If we don't, we're going to rot in here."

They dash down the first hallway, doing their best not to trip over one another or run into the wall, take the first corner at incredible speed and head down the adjacent hallway. Their extraordinary fear is heightened in the darkness and Spencer can feel her heart slamming against her ribcage, her veins racing with adrenaline. She's shaking; she's almost glad her friends cannot see her, because she is always expected to be the woman with the plan, the one in charge, the calm and rational one, but right now, she is anything but. She guides them around a sharp corner and wishes she had her watch right about now. They've probably already used up half of their allotted time.

Sure –A is on their heels already, the girls break out into a sprint and with each terrifying step, they grow closer and closer to their destiny. Spencer calls out, "There. It's that one at the end, do you see?"

"The glowing light," Aria points out. "That's what you saw? What made you think it leads outside?"

"Yeah." Spencer nods. "It has to. Even if it's late. That _has_ to be the way."

" _Ugh_ ," Hanna wrinkles her nose in disgust. "What is that _smell_?"

"Oh my god," Emily coughs. "It's _disgusting!_ "

"Damn it," Spencer curses the moment they reach the door. " _Of course_ it's locked!"

"Seriously, that smell," Aria gags. "I'm going to vomit."

"Guys, help me get the door open!" Spencer sputters, coughing a bit as the strong stench hits her. "Jesus, I can't breathe."

"My air's been compromised!"

"Wait," Emily shouts, covering her mouth and nose with her hand. "Don't you have the nail from your mirror?"

"Oh, right!"

She slips this out from her pocket and holds her breath, unable to breathe in the rancid air, and fiddles with the lock on the door. Hanna urges, "Come on! Come on! I need to get away from this smell!"

"Yeah, and we need to get out of here!" Aria adds. "We probably only have about ten seconds before –A comes to find us!"

"Guys, you're not helping!" Emily shrieks back. "Spence, do you want me to try and open the door while you play with the lock?"

"Please!"

At long last, they hear a resounding click and the door handle twists. Spencer cheers in victory. "We did it! We're out of here!"

"Hurry up!"

"Let's go!"

Emily turns the handle and the door pops open and the very first thing they see is that bright white light. Squinting in pain, each of the girls staggers backward and as they do, cockroaches, blowflies and maggots scurry around the floor at their feet. Aria and Hanna scream in terror and Emily and Spencer jump out of the way as the vermin keeps coming and the scent of death grows stronger and stronger. When their eyes adjust to the brand new light, they find not a door to the outside world, not broad daylight and freedom, but an industrial-sized lamp poised in the corner and a small room with shelves full of paint, plumbing parts and electrical equipment. In horror, Spencer realizes she had been wrong all along; this is not their escape. This is not the way out. This is a _closet_ and they're as close to an escape now as they had been when this all started. She's about to crumble and when she glances at the girls, she realizes each of them is suffering the effects of this crushing blow. –A has once again led them off of a cliff, taking advantage of their all-too-hopeful manner.

But then, they notice something else. The floor is stained with blood. The walls have claw marks. The supplies littered on the ground show signs of a struggle.

They see her feet first, skeletal, skin hanging from the bones. Jeans cover her legs and then they lose sight of her, having to peer around the corner of the room to catch the rest of her.

She's slumped over at the waist and they cannot see her face, but likely, there wouldn't be one to see. She's still wearing that infamous yellow top. Her blonde hair cascades from a lifeless skull around her shoulders, matted in places with blood.

And at this moment, at this sight, Spencer turns from the closet and vomits onto the floor of the hallway as the alarm sounds over the PA system.

They're too late.


	8. Eight

**Good morning and happy update Tuesday! I hope everyone's doing well! I had an explosion of feedback on the last chapter and I'm so humbled by that and so incredibly grateful for each and every one of you. It made coming back from my endlessly wonderful vacation just slightly tolerable. :P So I know a few of you expressed confusion after the events of the last chapter, which seems to be right on par with where you should be. I hope that some things begin to make sense starting with this chapter, but others might not and that's okay. Life- and death- doesn't make sense 100% of the time. I hope that didn't make me sound like Marlene. ;)**

 **I love you all and I seriously cannot thank you enough for sticking with me, right until the very end. I hope you enjoy this chapter and I hope to hear from you in the reviews! See you next time! :D**

* * *

Eight

"You've faced horrors in these past weeks… I don't know which is worse. The terror you feel the first time you witness such things, or the numbness that comes after it starts to become ordinary." – Tasha Alexander, " _A Fatal Waltz_ "

Every time she closes her eyes, this is what she sees:

Blood, dried and brown, in an ovular pool on the unforgiving concrete floor. Nail marks, deep and flaking, engraved in each of the walls like a cat trimming its nails. Bones with skin hanging. Hair still golden but duller and caked at the crown with blood. That yellow top of hers hanging loosely from a skeletal torso, torn at the hem. An obstructed face, out of view. Bony shoulders protruding from the tank top, cutting through skin. Blowflies and maggots crawling all over, feasting on the remains. The smell of decaying flesh, of the musty and damp closet space, and soon, of vomit, as Spencer simply cannot keep it in any longer. She sees a corpse and she sees all signs of suffering and then she turns away and sees nothing, because she cannot look any longer. She vomits twice more as Emily screams her cries and Hanna collapses to the floor, all the strength leaving her, and Aria loses consciousness, slumping against the wall. She sees while wishing she could stop. She remembers even though she wishes she could forget.

They were, of course, captured, sequestered and beaten. Now, Spencer lies on her bedroom floor, once again alone and broken, all the fight having gone out of her. She stares off into space and wishes she could sleep. She is so, so tired.

But every time she closes her eyes, this is what she sees.

" _She's dead," Emily wails. "She's dead. She's dead. She's-"_

" _We're too late!" Hanna agonizes, attempting to shake the life back into Aria. "Oh my god. What do we do now?"_

" _I don't know," Spencer shakes her head, horror-struck. "I didn't think she was…"_

" _She's dead." Emily repeats, burying her face in her hands. "She's dead, she's dead, she's-"_

" _I thought," Hanna gulps as Aria comes to. "I thought that if we found our way out of here, pointed the police in the right direction… I thought we were going to escape and… I thought we could save her."_

" _There's no saving her." Spencer exhales, swallowing past the baseball-sized lump in her throat. "She's been dead all along."_

" _We don't know that." Aria points out, her voice hoarse. "She could've… Just because she's still wearing-"_

" _She's dead!" Emily shrieks. "She's dead. She's-"_

" _Yeah, we do." Spencer shakes her head. "That extent of decomposition? She's been… She's been in that closet for a long time. She's been decaying for a while."_

 _At this, Emily bends at the waist and vomits onto the floor._ _The siren continues to sound, there are footsteps, running, echoing down the long hallway, and then they're no longer alone. Spencer glances up, sees the dark, hooded figure in a plastic Alison mask, and then blacks out._

She's so, so tired. She's freezing, too; each time she shivers and clutches the fabric of her sweater, she hears all of her bones grind together and then, of course, her stomach growls, echoing off its empty walls. She hasn't seen food or water since she's been locked away again, but even though she desperately wants to, she's not sure she could eat. She can't get the sight of Alison out of her mind. She can't wipe the smell of her decaying flesh from her nostrils. Spencer tries desperately not to think of it, but there's not much else to do here but time and think. She wonders if this person, this person Alison always referred to as _he_ , kidnapped her and killed her straight away, or if he brought her back here to suffer just like he's done with Spencer and the girls. She wonders if Alison had been fearful, had lost all hope of living like Spencer is close to, now, or if she'd fought back with every fiber in her being from day one until the end. She wonders if Alison had seen it coming. She wonders if she had suffered, if she'd been in pain, if she'd screamed and cried.

She wonders if Alison had gone quickly. She hopes she hadn't died alone.

There's a rustling sound, like curtains blowing in the nonexistent breeze, and Spencer lifts her head at the sudden disruption in her silence. She catches sight of herself in the mirror and stops dead, never quite used to her brand new horrific appearance. She has no memory of being beaten the way she very clearly was, but her cheeks are puffy, she's split her bottom lip, her left eye is encircled in a deep, purple bruise and there's a mysterious gash over her brow that still oozes with blood from time to time. Frowning, Spencer reaches up and gingerly touches the tender skin around her eye, wincing at the impact. At least she can still feel pain. She wonders if she'll ever be able to feel shock or love or happiness ever again.

Suddenly, she hears the rustling again and when she glances up, Alison is perched in the open window of her bedroom and their eyes meet. Spencer doesn't even react; not at first. She's now fully aware of her madness and sure the hallucinations will never cease. "What are you doing here?"

"I can hear you thinking from all the way down the hall. Don't give up; not yet." Alison tells her. "Hang in there. It's almost over."

"That's what you keep saying. But why not? What's the point?" Spencer shrugs. "It _is_ over, for you."

Alison frowns and hops down from the windowsill, coming to sit beside her on the floor, cross-legged. "Yeah. I suppose you're right."

Spencer regards her, then; her blonde hair shines in cascading curls, her top is clean and unblemished of tears, blood and bone are nowhere to be found. She looks almost… _alive_. "How are you here right now?"

"I'm not here right now. You know that." Alison rolls her eyes, already growing impatient. "I've never actually been here. But you know what they say- believe in something hard enough and it'll come true."

She stares hard at her friend, stating, "Ali… You're dead."

Alison smirks humorlessly. "I am."

"Why couldn't you tell us? Why didn't you tell us from the beginning?" Spencer asks accusatorily. "Why lead us on for so long and make us see…"

Bile begins to rise in her throat once more at the thought. _Bones. Blood. Hair._

"I never meant for you to see that." Alison insists and her sentiment is so genuine, Spencer believes her instantly. "He never meant for you to see that, either. But you're too curious and thoughtful for your own good, Spencer. You wandered down a hallway you weren't supposed to and-"

"Will you stop? Please. Please, just stop." Spencer shakes her head, her eyes closing for just a moment until those familiar horrific sights force them open again. "Will you at least tell me who it is? You owe me that. You owe us _all_ that."

Alison holds her gaze for a long, long time and Spencer assumes she's going to offer one of her characteristic philosophies; _wait for it, that's immortality, my darlings_. But Alison merely glances away and inhales a breath. "Remember that day a few months ago when you all went to Ravenswood? When Emily almost got sawed in half and I led you to the pseudo-lair with all the charts and timelines and spy equipment? And then you spoke to-"

"Yeah, sure. Ezra's apartment. How could I forget that?" Spencer cuts her off. "Wait, what do you mean 'pseudo-lair'?"

"I mean, it's a satellite lair." Alison explains. "It's not the main attraction, but it gets the point across."

Spencer frowns. "I always wondered why Ezra had two apartments… He told Aria he was writing a true crime novel and he stopped when they broke up thinking she'd get back together with him."

"And did she?"

"No."

"Well," Alison remarks. "I never thought Aria would have better sense than I did. But good for her."

"What are you talking about?" Spencer asks hesitantly, though she's already come to the finish line. She's already figured it out.

"Come on, Spencer. You believed I was alive even though all logic and reasoning pointed towards the opposite. _Surely_ you can wrap your mind around this." Alison sighs, but continues. "There's no novel. There never was a novel. That true crime bullshit he fed you was a cover and you all bought it, hook, line and sinker."

"But…" Spencer shakes her head. "If there's no novel… Aria read it-"

"Aria read a portion that he fabricated the moment you started to suspect him." Alison informs her. "I watched him type it up to cover his tracks. You're not the only ones I've visited, after all."

Her heart pounds in her ears. Her mouth goes dry. _Say it. The truth._ "But… Why?"

"Don't you see?" Alison replies. "It's been him all along."

Spencer thinks back, back, all the way back to that very first day of English with Mr. Fitz. The way he looked at Aria- the way he looked at _all_ of them- had stayed with her to this very day; to others, it may have appeared to be mere recognition but to her, it had always felt like he was ready to devour them, one by one. He held himself like an amateur, but he played like a professional and threw them off of his trail so often, they were left spinning in circles, unsure of where to look next. He hid behind the façade of the Shakespeare-loving bookworm, the English teacher, the quiet introspective type who would do anything to help a student, just so they wouldn't peel back the mask and see the monster he is inside. And as Spencer thinks on it, now, so many other alarming situations involving him are springing to the surface, it's a wonder she hadn't yet figured this out before.

But then again, she had, and he'd tipped the scale, turned the blame on her, distracted them with a shiny object while he created chaos like a mastermind right before their eyes.

"He killed you?" Spencer exhales heavily, unable to grasp the truth despite it glaring apparent in front of her. When Alison nods solemnly, Spencer adds, "And Mona- did he kill her too?"

"She figured it out. She was always smarter than he took her for." Alison replies. "And I think he had reason to believe she was going to tell you, all of you. He couldn't risk that. He wouldn't let that happen."

Before she can stop herself, Spencer blurts out, "Did it hurt?"

She feels incredibly idiotic the moment it leaves her mouth and Alison purses her lips. "Well, it didn't feel _good_."

"I'm sorry." Spencer sputters, shaking her head. "I didn't mean to-"

"He brought me here. Starved me, electrocuted me; same as you." Alison lists. "And then he bashed me over the head with a brick. Three times. And you know why? Because I said no. Because our affair was over, I was interested in someone else, and he just couldn't take that. He couldn't take the rejection. Oh, but he wasn't done; they never are. And he wasn't going to just let that go! You murder once, it's an accident. You murder again, it's a pattern. You murder a third time, it's a pastime. And he loved to watch the four of you. You know, he always said his favorite book was _The Great Gatsby_. He claimed it, he vowed it, and I have to hand it to him, it's the answer the public wants to hear. But I knew better. I knew the truth. It was _Lolita_ … Except, his version always had a different ending."

Spencer takes this in, each and every word, and sighs. "I can't believe it. I can't. I wouldn't have expected it at all."

"What did I tell you? It's never who you expect." Alison says and Spencer nods slowly. "But you can rest easy; you've actually got people looking for you. And they're close; they're almost here. I'd be worried if I were him, but you don't need to be. That's the difference, I guess, between being loved and being hated."

Again, Spencer asks, "What are you talking about?"

"Come on; I'm dead. I'm not an idiot. You think I don't know everyone threw a goddamned party the second it was reported that I was missing? You think I don't know that no one ever actually cared that I was gone? I dug my own grave and now I have to lie in it; I get it. I treated people like dirt and look where it got me. But I'm not about to pretend it doesn't totally suck." Alison sighs and then glances at Spencer, smiling just a tad. "You're a lot like me, you know. Everyone's said it. But you know what separates us, don't you? Your empathy. Your ability to love. Love equals hope, you know, especially in a situation like this."

"Hope? Really?" Spencer drones. "At a time like this? I've told you over and over- hope breeds eternal misery."

"You say that and I think you've said it so much, you think you believe it." Alison says. "But you don't, Spencer. Not now; not when you've got people counting on you. You love them, don't you?"

"The girls? Of course I do."

"And Toby? You love him, too?"

"With all my heart."

"Then you haven't lost all hope." Alison smiles at her and somehow, Spencer smiles back. "It's like Victor Hugo wrote in one of _my_ favorite books- _to love another person is to see the face of God_."

" _Les Mis_ _érables_ , right?" Spencer asks and when Alison nods, she adds, "That book is so long and so depressing and everyone dies in the end. Why is it one of your favorites?"

"What can I say?" Alison shrugs. "I'm a sucker for a tragic ending."

Spencer says, "The title literally translates to 'the wretched'."

"Yeah." Alison agrees. "But, ' _for the wretched of the Earth, there is a flame that never dies_ '. That's what I'm counting on, so maybe, even despite the circumstances, I haven't lost all hope, either."

In the silence that follows, Alison stands and makes her way back to the window, swinging both legs over, despite the fact that there is virtually no space between the wall and the bedroom window. Spencer halts her to ask, "Am I crazy? Is that why I can see you and why we're having this conversation?"

"No, Spencer, you're not crazy." Alison shakes her head. "Hell, you're as clear-headed and as lucid as you've ever been because in this place, you can't afford not to be."

She watches the blonde for just a moment before pleading, "Take me with you."

"Take _me_ with _you_." Alison replies instead. "Get out of here. Bring me home. I've been trapped in this hell for far too long."

And with that, she lets go, plunging out of sight. Spencer scrambles across the floor and peers out of the window, but all she can see is darkness.

* * *

He has the dreams again the night before they plan their search and rescue mission.

He never finds her. He finds her, but mentally she's gone for good. He finds her, but it's already too late. He never finds her. He finds her, but mentally she's gone for good. He finds her, but it's already too late. _He never finds her. He finds her, but mentally she's gone for good. He finds her, but it's already too late._

They play on a loop in his subconscious each time he manages to fall asleep and no matter how hard he tries, he cannot clear his head, he cannot wake himself up, he cannot stop the dreams from happening.

At four a.m., he wakes with tears streaming down his face, his heart slamming loudly against his ribcage, sweat pooling in every orifice, and decides to forego sleep for the rest of the night. Climbing out of bed, he decides to go for a run to clear his anxious mind and then come back and ready himself for the day's activities. He pulls on a pair of gym shorts and a tank top, queues up his iPod and then sets out into the early morning. The sun has just begun to rise over Rosewood and all its sleeping residents and it's a very chilly morning, just over fifty degrees. He starts off at a brisk pace, then moves to a jog, and when his nerves only amplify, he breaks out into a sprint.

He hopes- dear God, he's _praying_ \- that they've got it right and that soon, the girls will be home and Spencer will be back in his arms where she belongs.

It's been quite a whirlwind of a few days trying to plan a motion for attack and keep it out of reach of the public. Jason, Caleb and Paige have all been helping, working tirelessly day in and day out to get this done and to get these girls home safely. Toby has been studiously ignoring every phone call from his former employer asking him to come into the department for a chat- he's got nothing left to say to her, honestly- and instead, all of his focus is on the task at hand. He works together with Harrison in getting the SWAT team involved as they set up a course of action, but it just doesn't feel like _enough_. He pleads with the officers to allow him to comb through the location with them- truthfully it's because he wants to be the first person to see Spencer, to assess her state of mind before they can get their professional hands on her- and he almost wishes he hadn't quit his job, because rules are rules- only trained, armed officers are allowed on scene.

He has every intention of going in there anyway.

Toby circles the entire town once, twice and then three times, and it's well after six and the sun is burning brightly in the sky above by the time he makes it back to the loft. He stops in for a coffee- if he doesn't, he'll never make it through the day on his spotty sleep history- and Caleb and Jason are already there, looking groggy and unkempt. Caleb asks, "You couldn't sleep either, huh?"

Toby shakes his head, orders and then turns to say, "So… Today's the day."

"Yeah. Today's the day."

"What if they're not there?" Jason asks. "What if we're barking up the wrong tree?"

"Then we're back to square one again." Caleb frowns but Toby shakes his head.

"Then we keep looking."

"And what if…" Jason sighs. "What if they're there, but-"

"For the love of God, don't finish that sentence."

Toby thanks the barista as she presents him with his coffee and bids his friends farewell. "City Hall. One hour."

They nod. "See you there."

His coffee cup is empty by the time he reaches the bathroom to shower and usually, a nice, long, hot shower melts his troubles away, but this isn't like most days. It isn't until after he's dried and dressed, after he's brushed his teeth and combed his hair, after he's left the loft in search of City Hall in the center of the town, that he realizes his hands are shaking. So much is at stake; one false move could cost each one of these girls their lives. He doesn't drive to center of town, because City Hall is dangerously close to the police department and he knows Tanner could pick his truck out of a lineup; the last thing he needs today is for her to sniff out his trail and ruin their covert operation. There are three unmarked vans, dark with tinted windows, and an officer hops out the moment Toby arrives, shakes his hand, and then pulls him inside. When Toby takes a seat, he notes each one of his friends, including Harrison, is already there.

"Alright, here's the situation." The burly man booms as the vans begin their journey out of town. "We should break ground in Ravenswood at eight a.m. Once there, we will follow the directions provided to us to the undisclosed location where the hostage situation is allegedly taking place. The agents in the front of this vehicle will be armed and will remain here inside the vehicle throughout the entire process to keep you safe. You will not be permitted inside the area no matter what the outcome."

"Sir," Toby immediately pleads. "If I could just take a moment of your time to say-"

"Cavanaugh, we have already been briefed on the situation and on your involvement in this case." The man frowns. "Considering your personal interest in the matter and with one of the subjects of the hostage situation in particular, I do not think it is appropriate for you to accompany us inside."

"But sir-"

"However," He goes on. "Your colleague David Harrison has vouched for you and explained to me your training and your law enforcement background. Therefore, considering you have had experience with this subject matter, I suppose if you would like to join us, you may."

Toby exhales a sigh of relief. "Thank you, sir."

"You will, of course, wear Kevlar at all times and be armed with the proper protection." The man concludes. "The rest of you will follow along with our progress via the radio and will only be permitted outside this van once the perpetrator has been captured and the area is no longer a threat to your safety."

"Yes, sir."

The rest of the drive to Ravenswood is silent and as the van drives smoothly towards its final destination, Toby's stomach churns and churns. He can't contain his nervous energy; he taps his fingers along the car door, drums them on each of his legs, taps his feet to an unknown rhythm, unable to calm his body. Glancing at each of the other occupants, he can see the extreme fear and anxiety is not reserved solely for him; Paige is staring out the window, wide-eyed, and she keeps taking deep breaths like she can't breathe. Jason is staring at the floor, _hard_ , and toying with the zipper on the end of his jacket absentmindedly, his thoughts all over his face. And Caleb glances up when he catches Toby's eyes on him and smiles in what Toby's assuming was supposed to be a reassuring way, but it comes off as much more of a grimace. They're all falling apart, bursting at the seams with the need to combust.

But not now. First, they must focus. First, they must find the girls and bring them to safety. They can combust after that.

It begins to rain the moment they cross over into Ravenswood and, as usual, everything flips over into gray scale. They arrive at the apartment complex and park behind it, in front of a cluster of trees that leads to a thicker wood further on. Toby's heart is in his throat the moment he slips on his Kevlar, suits up and holsters his gun, and he cannot stop his hands from trembling. It's now or never. It's all or nothing. This is what they've been waiting and working for all these weeks.

Instinct tells them he's not keeping the girls inside his very expensive studio apartment and they begin to search the grounds for any indication of a struggle or a hiding place. Harrison notices muddy footprints on the mossy floor leading into the woods and they go from there, traipsing into the forest and getting soaked by the minute from the onslaught of rain. It seems like they walk for hours and hours and beside him, Harrison yawns. For a moment, Toby wonders what that must be like- to be able to think about _sleep_ at a time like this- and he wishes he could be like his friend for just a moment; he wishes he could treat this like another day at the office. When they finally push past a giant weeping willow, they come to a quiet, eerie clearing, but nothing appears out of the ordinary. That is, until they tread a bit further and the next step Toby takes makes a giant _thud_. He steps again. _Thud_. He jumps up and down. _Thud, thud, thud_. When they peel back the layers of grass and dirt and leaves, they find a hatch, a giant iron door with two handles.

Underground. He's been keeping them _underground_.

"Game faces, boys." The chief announces before climbing down the steep ladder into the bunker. "We're going in."

When Toby's feet finally touch the ground, he feels as if he's descended into hell. It's so dark he can't see five feet in front of him, but the feeling he's getting from this place is running shivers up and down his spine. A leaky pipe is dripping, somewhere in the distance, and there's a faint buzzing sound he can't seem to locate or explain. A couple of his team members illuminate the long hallway with industrial strength flashlights and then Toby squints and sees a lot more than he originally had. Running lights along the baseboard, glowing blue but dimly. Cold, unforgiving concrete for walls and floor. Doors, so many doors, endless doors, and Spencer could be behind any one of them. He doesn't know what to do, doesn't know where to start, but this place is disgusting and dirty and dingy and so incredibly dark; it isn't fit for a human being to live here and yet, these four girls had been here over a month.

"Split up." The chief orders next. "Pair off and take a hallway. Communicate over radio with any updates and take a clean shot, if you've got it. When I say roll out, you roll out; I don't want _any_ of you to be a hero, you got that?"

"Yes, sir!"

Naturally, Toby turns down the closest hallway to him and Harrison follows. It's quiet; _too_ quiet and it's making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. There's an awful, stomach twisting smell emanating from one of the hallways they hadn't chosen and he fears the worst instantly. He's never seen a decaying body, but he's incredibly certain he's just smelled one. Covering his mouth and nose and instructing Harrison to do the same, they walk further down the hallway they _had_ chosen, guns raised, and before long, they reach the end. There is a series of doors in their path and Toby nods towards the one behind him as Harrison prepares to kick it in. Toby does the same, stopping to listen for movement first and upon hearing no sound, he kicks at the handle once and then twice before it splinters off and the door pops open. It's just as dark as the hallway and Toby steps in warily, eyeing the sunny yellow wallpaper and the lacy bedspread and the wall where someone had made markings of a child, growing to a new height each year. It feels so _familiar_ and yet, so different; adrenaline courses through his veins as he realizes, _I've been in this room before…_

It's then that he spots the body, curled up in the fetal position on the window seat, dark hair covering her face. _Emily_. And then he understands; _he_ had tried to make this seem like Emily's bedroom, but he'd, of course, gotten it all wrong. Emily isn't moving and hadn't so much as flinched at the sound of her bedroom door being kicked open, but the soft rise and fall of her slender back tells him she's still alive. _Thank God. That's one of four._ Softly, he reaches for his radio and presses in the intercom, asking, "East hallway, fifteen feet or so in and first door on the right. This is Officer Cavanaugh requesting backup. I have located Emily Fields; I repeat, I have located Emily Fields… and she's alive."

At this, she lifts her head off of the pillow she's made of her own arms and glances at him, wide-eyed, as he stares right back at her. He takes a tentative step closer and she doesn't move an inch. "Em… You have no idea how glad I am to see you."

Still, she hardly dares to breathe. Gently, Toby approaches her and takes a seat on the bench beside her. "I've brought a whole team. We're going to get you out of here; all of you. And we're going to take you home."

At this, Emily dissolves into tears and when Toby wraps his arms around her, she doesn't pull away. Instead, she snakes her arms around his waist and hugs him right back, tightly, so that Toby can feels his insides squeezing between his ribs. He doesn't mind. She sobs and sobs and finally says, "You're really here. I'm not imagining this."

"No, of course I'm here." Toby nods and then, a bit warily, he asks, "And the others?"

"Other rooms. Haven't seen them in days."

"And…" He trails off but forces himself to pull through. "And Alison?"

At this, Emily lets out a fresh sob, her frail body vibrating off of his. "She's here, too."

Three armed officers usher in at that very moment, lowering their guns the moment they realize Toby and Emily are the only occupants of the room. She clings to him even harder at the sight. "Don't leave me here."

"Go with them, Emily." Toby pleads, gently prying himself from her though keeping a tight hold on her hands. "They're trained professionals. They're going to get you out of here."

"Don't leave me!"

"I would never do that." He insists. "Go with them. They're going to get you out of here. They're going to get you in the van and get you looked at. Go. We've got to get you out of here before he notices, right?"

A series of gunshots echoes from the other end of the hall and both Toby and Emily jump out of their skin. Emily says, "I think he already has."

From across the hall, Harrison calls out, " _Cavanaugh!_ "

Toby turns back to Emily and says, "I have to go now. We're going to get all of you out of here, I promise. Alison too."

At this, a fresh sob escapes her lips, but she lets go of his hands and allows herself to be escorted from the room, the three officers surrounding her like the secret service. Again, gunshots ring through the air and again, Harrison calls, " _Cavanaugh!_ "

He races in the direction of the sound and finds a splintered door a little further down the hallway, where Harrison is already calling for backup, his voice low. Toby glances at the peeling wallpaper, the familiar bedspread, the plastic trophies on the shelves, and _knows_. Scanning the room for her, his heart threatens to leap from his chest at the sight of his girlfriend, curled up on the floor by the closet, and he thanks every deity he's ever believed in for bringing him to her. _She's alive. She's okay. She's right here_. Her knees are pulled up to her chest, her hair lies in tangled knots around her shoulders, a few inches longer than he remembers, and there's blood on her sweater. Her eyes are sunken in dark shadows, the skin of her cheeks seems to stick to her bones, and she's pale, so very pale, in the artificial light emanating from their flashlights. Bloodied, purple bruises and unhealed wounds coat her face, appearing as if someone had used her face for boxing practice. She's so painfully thin; her arms and legs are mere twigs that could snap at the slightest pressure, her stomach concaves and he can see her ribs poking through her sweater. It tugs at every last one of his heartstrings and he'd sink into despair if he wasn't held upright by the strong desire to get her out of this hellhole immediately.

When she finally glances up at him, their eyes meet for the first time in a month and he wishes he could scoop her into his arms and sprint out of here, but it isn't procedure and he doesn't know where her mind is. His worst fears continue to haunt him as she stares emptily at him for what feels like weeks. _The dream_ , his mind toys with him, _it's coming true. She doesn't know who she is. She doesn't know who_ you _are._ He swallows past the lump in his throat and takes a few tentative steps closer, hesitant, wary, but she makes no move towards welcoming him in or pushing him away. He kneels before her, so quiet, so soft in the darkness, and utters only her name. "Spencer?"

And that faraway look in her eyes doesn't fade, but she croaks out, "Toby?"

He could cry from relief and maybe he will; later, when he doesn't have the pressing urge to kiss every last inch of her and not let her out of his sight for the rest of his life. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner."

It takes him by surprise, but she reaches upward and caresses his face in a motion so gentle, it makes his heart skip a beat. It's then that the fog clears from her eyes and she sees him clear as day. "Toby… You're really here."

"Of course I'm really here." He confirms and encloses her hand with one of his own. "God, I missed you so much. We've been looking for ages. I'd never give up on you. You know that."

"No, it's just…" She shakes her head and inches closer to him. "I've imagined you were here so many times. But then I'd reach out to touch you and… you'd disappear."

"I'm here." He affirms, bracing her bony shoulders. He has got to get some food into her _stat_. "I'm not going anywhere. I won't let him hurt you ever again."

She scrambles forward with such ferocity it makes Toby's head spin, but he catches her with equal vigor all the same. She's trembling _hard_ and it absolutely kills him; he wishes there was something he could do to make her stop shaking. Instead, he holds her as tightly as he can, wary of snapping her wafer thin bones, and kisses every reachable part of her, whispering his love, his apologies, and his promises for a terror-free future so only she can hear. She nods with each statement and holds him even tighter as if committing this to memory. After a moment that feels like a lifetime, she pulls back to press a kiss to his lips, the first in _so_ long, and he cannot help himself; he melts. Her lips are dry, chapped likely from dehydration, but strong, warm and urgent and he'll never get enough of this. When she pulls back, her eyes alight with the warmest amber and _this_ is Spencer; this is the girl he loves. She's been here all along.

She runs her hands through his hair and says, "I know who it is. –A. He's here and… I know who it is."

"We do, too." Toby tells her, tucking a lock of stray hair behind her ear. "And he's not going to come near you or the girls ever again. I will protect you with everything I have."

Over the radio, an officer calls in the discovery of Hanna and Spencer perks up the tiniest bit. "Emily and Aria are here, too."

"I know. I know. We've got Em already and we'll get Aria. I promise." Toby tells her, her death grip on him still firm and unyielding. "Spence… Is Alison here too?"

At this, her eyes shift downward. "Yes. But she's dead."

The bottom falls out of his heart and he pulls her back into his arms, tucking her head protectively against his chest as she holds on just as tightly as before. "I'm sorry. I'm _so_ sorry. Let's get you out of here, okay? Let's go."

They stand together and she pleads with him, "Don't let go."

"I wouldn't dream of it." Toby assures her. "It's over now, Spencer. It's finally over."

Their eyes meet and he can see the flood of tears before they spill over her cheeks. She falls apart right in front of his eyes.

Hers is a clean break; echoing, guttural sobs off the concrete wall.

His is messy; jagged shards of his broken heart stabbing his insides until his eyes fill, too.

* * *

She holds onto him- _tightly_ , like her heart will stop beating if she loosens her grip- and doesn't let go for even a second.

She's very aware of the officers swarming the scene, entering the room and taking bags full of evidence, swabbing the dried pool of blood on the ground, eyeing the reunited, intertwined lovers in the middle of the floor. She's aware of this, but she ignores it, blocks out all the background noise and instead focuses upon the feeling of Toby's arms around her, his breathing in sync with hers, his lips pressing firm, reassuring, loving kisses against every inch of her. She still can't quite believe he's here. How many times had she wished to see him? How many times had she dreamed she never would again? And how many times, in her darkest, hunger-induced, sleep-deprived moments had she hallucinated his presence only to have him disappear the moment she reached out to him? Just this very thought brings tears to her eyes once more, but she blinks them back, holds him tighter, buries her face deep into his neck. She thought she'd go crazy with the solitude, with missing him, with the pain and the torture, and with the possibility of dying in here without the chance to say a proper goodbye.

But she hadn't. She isn't crazy. Toby's right here, being his endlessly wonderful self.

And most importantly? She's about to be _free_.

Spencer's tears have long since subsided, but her breathing remains hitched, her stomach aches with hunger, her eyes sting with exhaustion. Toby shifts the tiniest bit but doesn't let go, even when an armed, masked officer enters and shouts, "Cavanaugh! We have to clear the area and secure the crime scene."

"Okay." Toby nods and yet, they remain, unmoving, on the floor.

"Cavanaugh," The man sighs impatiently. " _Now_. We've got a 10-54 and we need to get everyone out of the building."

"Got it." He repeats and addresses Spencer next, gently. "You ready to go?"

She nods eagerly. "Please get me out of here."

For a moment, they untangle their limbs and the cool emptiness left behind sets goose bumps across Spencer's skin. He keeps a tight hold on her hand and stands, pulling her up with him as she stumbles a bit on her feet, a bit weaker than usual. Her vision clouds with stars the moment she stands upright, suddenly lightheaded and faint, and she sways on the spot. Toby catches her arm and eyes her in concern, but before he can ask on her behalf, a colleague of his catches her other side and at this action, Spencer visibly tenses- an act that does not go unnoticed by her boyfriend. "You alright, Miss Hastings?"

Spencer nods quickly, wary of the unknown man, his hand hot around her upper arm, and wonders if her trust issues will last the rest of her life. Toby jumps in, saying, "I'll take it from here."

"You sure?"

"I said I got it." He replies and the man backs off, turns, and leads the way out of the room. Turning to Spencer, he asks, "You okay?"

"A little woozy, that's all." She shakes her head and he frowns.

"We need to get some food into your system and you could definitely use a good night's sleep."

"I could use a good _year's_ sleep."

He cracks a smile then and she returns it, asking, "So what's next?"

"Well," Toby sighs, his smile wavering just a tad as they take slow and steady steps towards the doorway. "We're going to go back to Rosewood and take you guys to the hospital to get you looked at. I'm sure your parents will meet us there. We don't know the extent of your… Well, you've been down here for a while and you're definitely going to need some medical attention."

"And him?" She dares to ask, staring into the long, dark abyss of the hallway. "What's next for him?"

"Prison." Toby assures her, squeezing her hand. "Prison for the rest of his sorry, miserable, pathetic life."

Spencer nods and, when they reach the doorway, she glances over her shoulder at the mock up of her bedroom; the concrete bed with the threadbare blanket that almost matched hers but not quite, the closet doors that had held nothing but a solid wall behind them, the floor that had seared each surface of her body with electricity and a pain like no other. She thinks of the sleep she's missed and the food and water she's been deprived off, she thinks of the horrifying, agony-filled screams emanating from the other girls' rooms and the terrifying notion that she had been the cause of it. She thinks of lying here, crying here, nearly dying here and suddenly, she can't get out of here fast enough. The plastic trophies on the wall resembling her own are making her heart race, the familiar wallpaper and curtains and chaise of hers are making her stomach turn. Toby notices her hesitance and shoots her a questioning glance, but she shakes her head and they trudge onward into the darkness, leaving her misery behind.

Toby keeps a firm hand on the small of her back as they navigate the empty hallway, the eerie feeling of being watched still raising the hair on the back of her neck. Her heart's in her throat and she can feel the adrenaline spreading through every inch of her, sure that at any moment they're going to be found out, Toby will be compromised and she will be forced back into her chamber of solitude for the rest of her days. This moment never comes. Instead, they hear whimpering and unintelligible shouting and monotone, booming voices and then the ringing of gunshots. Spencer jumps nearly out of her skin, frantic, and Toby reaches for her, shakes his head, leads her in the other direction. The walls begin to close in on her and suddenly, she cannot breathe. In minutes, she realizes why; Toby climbs up the rust-covered ladder first, pushes open the hatch door and pulls himself out before reaching down and extending a hand towards her.

They're underground. They've been underground this entire time.

Precipitation falls upon her face and she can just barely make out each of Toby's fingers as she reaches out blindly for them, slipping a bit on the metal rungs of the ladder. Her eyes do not adjust to the sudden burst of light and she stops climbing the moment she gets to the top; she cannot see. Toby, she's assuming, pulls her out and suddenly she's drenched from the onslaught and her clothes are sticking to her skin, her hair matting to her face and neck, and there's blood dripping from her hands, but she doesn't remember getting hurt. Mud seeps through her tennis shoes and she's suddenly aware that nearly a dozen or so officers have surrounded her with a blanket, are asking her a million questions, are trying to shepherd her towards one of the awaiting squad cars surrounding the area. She glances back as her vision clears and sees the hatch in the ground, now teeming with police officers, and shivers. Spencer inhales a deep gulp of fresh air as they clear the thicket of trees in the woods.

Freedom smells like rain, like mossy, mud-slathered grass, like pine trees in the late afternoon storm.

The chief approaches her the moment they reach the squad cars, discards her now soaked blanket for a dry one and tucks her underneath an umbrella. He begins to ask Spencer a few simple questions and she answers, a bit distractedly, suddenly entranced by everything around her. The flashing red and blue lights on the squad cars, the van with dark, tinted windows with its door haphazardly thrown open, Caleb and Hanna embracing behind her and Emily and Paige crying and conversing in hushed tones. For a brief moment, she wonders where Aria is, but finds her just a second later, emerging from the thicket of trees just as she had seconds earlier, Jason leaping from the van to collect the sobbing brunette in a protective embrace. It's certainly curious and Spencer makes a mental note to ask both of them about this a bit later. _Later_. A future she now has, thanks to Toby and his team.

The chief asks her a question she doesn't register then because Toby's gently released her hand, given her an apologetic look and stepped away, beckoned over to another officer with a wave of the hand. Feeling her heart pound with panic- and absolutely _loathing_ every minute of it- Spencer asks, "Where are you going?"

Toby apologizes to his peers and turns back to her to reply, "I'll just be a minute. I have to finish the report of my findings and then we'll go."

"I don't…" Spencer shakes her head, lowering her voice so only he can hear. "I don't want to be alone."

"I know." He nods. "I'm not leaving you. I'll just be a second and then we'll get out of here."

Unsteadily, Spencer turns around, approaches her friends, and before she can blink, Jason murmurs something to Aria, who nods rapidly, and he lets go. The moment he does, his arms come around Spencer instead and she hugs him back eagerly, realizing they've never quite done this before; older brother hugging younger sister. _Sister_. It makes Spencer's heart ache as she thinks about the sister of his still stuck inside that underground bunker, never truly able to leave. She pulls back after a moment and spots the tears in his eyes; he'd been thinking the very same thing. "Jason…"

"It's okay." Jason nods. "None of this is your fault. Any of you."

"Yeah." Caleb agrees. "You don't ever have to apologize for this. You have nothing to be sorry for."

"You'll feel better once we get you home." Paige puts in, even as Emily looks hesitant at the prospect. "Toby?"

He rejoins them and instantly, Spencer reaches for his hand. "Yeah?"

"Can we get out of here?"

"Yeah," Toby nods. "We've been cleared for medical transport. We're going to head straight to the hospital from here."

At these words, an ambulance pulls up beside the many police cars, its lights flashing though the siren remains silent, unused. The battered group of friends disperses, officers pushing each of the girls into different vehicles, and a cop Spencer recognizes but cannot name grins at her and Toby, nodding his head towards the squad car behind him. He gets behind the wheel as Toby opens the door, attempting in vain to shield her from the onslaught of rain, and Spencer slides inside, shivering, unable to calm down, unable to stop shaking. She watches as the EMTs pull a stretcher out of the back of the ambulance and, not seconds later, a second one follows. Toby joins her in the backseat of the car, wrapping an arm around her bony shoulders, but she cannot quite seem to tear her eyes away from the scene as not one, but two body bags are rolled out from beneath the earth.

"It's over." Toby repeats, tugging her closer. "It's all over."

She rests against him and watches as Ravenswood shrinks away in the rearview mirror. She has no desire ever to return.

With each mile they drive, Spencer feels more and more at peace.


	9. Nine

**Good afternoon, all! I hope this very first day in August is finding you well. It's not so much finding me well- I caught the summer cold and all- but it's fine. I'm finally off so I get to sit on the couch and do nothing for two days. Woo! Okay, enough of my whining. Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me through this crazy journey. This is the penultimate chapter- we've got only one left after this and this story is complete. I'm ready for it to end, not going to lie. It took a lot out of me.**

 **Anyway, please enjoy and thank you in advance if you review. If you're a musical fan, I dare you not to sing the quote at the top of the chapter. :P It was in the book too, guys, I swear. I read that damn thing cover to cover, unfortunately. Okay, sorry, so many delirious ramblings today. I'm on a lot of DayQuil, I apologize LOL. Thank you and I'll see you next time! :D**

* * *

Nine

"Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise." – Victor Hugo, " _Les Mis_ _érables_ "

Somehow, word had gotten out to the press, and soon, their homecoming is all over the news, as is his death.

Flashing cameras and the incessant clicking of the shutters welcome them back to Rosewood and await them at the steps of the hospital. Eager young reporters push their cameras up against the windows of the squad cars and Toby frowns, pulling Spencer closer, tighter against him, and shielding her from view. She had enjoyed freedom, so far; in the tiny backseat away from the world, with the soft rainfall against the thick windows, nestled in Toby's arms, she had actually felt some semblance of normalcy. She felt _safe_. But freedom comes with a price; the moment the car stops, it vibrates and thuds with bodies as they collide, stumbling forward, pushing one another out of the way so as to be the first one to catch a glimpse of the infamous missing girls. Spencer is feeling about a million different things at once, but ready to leave the sanctuary of this car is certainly not one of them.

"We'll go quickly, okay?" Toby offers and she nods rapidly, her muddled mind swimming. "You don't have to answer any of their questions. You don't even have to look at them."

He reaches for the door handle and she asks, "Toby? Are my parents here?"

"I would imagine they are." Toby confirms. "They've been coming to the station everyday since you've been gone. And I'm sure the chief's alerted them by now. They know we're coming here."

Again, she nods, feeling like her mind is a sponge, soaking up all this information she's been deprived of. "What day is it?"

"Wednesday." He smiles, albeit a bit sadly. "It's Wednesday the twenty-third."

"Of May?" Spencer asks and he nods. "So we've been down there for…"

"Nearly six weeks." Toby finishes her thought. "Yeah."

She sits on this a moment, processing. The officers in the front of the vehicle step out, circle the car and tap on the glass, making Spencer jump. She wonders if they've ever dealt with a victim of a kidnapping before. They open her door and suddenly the flashes grow brighter, the voices louder, as they ask, "Miss Hastings? Are you ready?"

Her voice seeming to have crawled back into its cage, she nods, but not before turning to Toby and asking, quietly, "Stay close to me?"

"Always."

They surround her the moment her feet touch the ground. She glances up once and it's a mistake; flashes explode in her vision like fireworks on the fourth of July. Never has she had so much unwanted attention; never has she ever thought she'd grow tired of hearing her own name. She grows weary on the fourth step and she cannot breathe; all the bodies, all the shouts, all the photographs are suffocating her, and even though there's an officer on either side of her, in front leading the way and behind, she still feels exposed. She feels naked for all the world to see, like each and every one of these eyes is preying upon her sallow skin, her straggly unwashed hair, her bloodied and bruised face. In moments, they step into the hospital, the sliding doors sealing them away from the outside world, and the noise quiets just a tad, but this doesn't bring Spencer much peace. She's exhausted from the whole experience and she's so hungry her stomach aches with agony, but she's also not sure she could stomach a single bite of food, because she can't get the smell or the sight of Alison's decaying body out of her nose and mind.

The hospital smells too clean, too pure, and even though a part of her would like to eat a six-course meal, another part of her feels like she could vomit at any moment.

They bring her into a private room they've sequestered off the side of triage and she is the last to arrive; the other three girls huddle around one another in the center of the room, unmoving. The nurses in the ER assess them and even though none of them exude any life-threatening injuries, they're assigned a yellow tag- _urgent_. Toby gets called away a moment later and he looks at war with himself over whether or not to answer. She tries to give him her best _everything's fine_ look, but she's sure, in her six weeks of torture and despair, that it's lost all its power. "I'll be right back, I promise. Are you going to be okay?"

She nods. "Go. I'll be here."

When he does, Spencer steps forward and embraces Emily first and then Hanna. "Thank God. Thank God you guys are alright."

"We never would have been if they hadn't found us." Emily shakes her head. "We would've been his next victims."

"Where's everyone else?" Spencer asks, glancing around the empty room, her eyes lingering a bit on Aria, who sits in a chair by the window, her face blank. "Jason, Paige, Caleb?"

"They wouldn't let them ride in the cars with us." Hanna purses her lips. "They came back in the van. Did Toby get to ride with you?"

"Yeah."

"Lucky."

Again, Spencer glances over her shoulder at Aria, and lowers her voice a bit to ask, "What's going on with her?"

"I don't know." Emily shrugs. "She hasn't said a word since we left. She just… stares."

"Yeah and I mean I know she loved him once, but she doesn't love him now." Hanna fills in. "And after all the shit he did? Yeah, he's dead, but… I guess I thought she wouldn't care as much as she does."

" _I am thinking of aurochs and angels, the secret of durable pigments_ ," Aria says suddenly, her voice monotone. " _Prophetic sonnets, the refuge of art_."

All three sets of eyes snap to hers. Emily asks, "Aria? Are you okay?"

"That's what he said. That's what he kept repeating." Aria says. " _I am thinking of aurochs and angels, the secret of durable pigments, prophetic sonnets, the refuge of art._ "

"What?" Hanna exclaims. "That makes no sense. He obviously spent too much time underground torturing teenagers."

"No, wait, that sounds way too familiar." Spencer bites her lip, contemplative. "Where do I know that from?"

"He opened the door to my room. He took off his mask and he said, _I guess we don't really need this anymore, do we?_ " Aria continues. "He told me that the police were here, that it was over, and that if we left now, we could still get away. He said he had a gun; that he'd shoot every last one of the cops until we were free."

"Aria-"

"He asked me if I still loved him, if I was upset because of what he did to you guys, if I'd run away with him so we could start over." Aria goes on. "I asked him if he killed Mona, if he killed Alison, and if he was going to kill me if I told him no, too."

The girls step closer, intrigued, and Aria quakes and shivers, but her voice remains even, emotionless. "He pulled me up, he pressed the gun to my head. It was cold; I can still feel it. He walked me down the hall and told me how much he loved me, how much he wished he could figure out a way to make things right, and how sorry he was for what he was doing and what he was about to do. And then, we were in the great room, and there were officers there with guns and masks and they tried to get him to lower his gun and let me go but he wouldn't. And a few shots were fired and I don't know who did it but they didn't have a clean shot; I could see that. I was in their way. He made sure of it."

"The gunshots." Spencer nods. "I heard them as I was leaving. It was you?"

"And then the officers started shouting and I couldn't hear anything they were saying because he was whispering in my ear." Aria says. "All kinds of terrible things about you guys and Alison and me. And then he started repeating it over and over; _I am thinking of aurochs and angels, the secret of durable pigments, prophetic sonnets, the refuge of art._ Over and over again and I didn't know what he was saying or what it meant but each time he said it, he pressed the gun harder against my temple and I was so sure I was going to die. I was so sure I was going to be next. And the officers couldn't do anything because each time they tried, each time they stepped closer or fired off a shot, he'd cock the gun and brandish it into my temple and tell them I was dead."

"Aria-"

"And then he told me that he was sorry, that he loved me, that he would never forgive himself for all the pain he's caused." Aria concludes. "And he said, _I am thinking of aurochs and angels, the secret of durable pigments, prophetic sonnets, the refuge of art. And this is the only immortality you and I may share, my Lolita._ "

" _Lolita_ ," Spencer exclaims in recognition. "I _knew_ I'd heard it before. It's the last few lines of the book."

"He let go of me, then. There was a shot and the next thing I knew, there were two body bags instead of one." Aria sighs heavily. "I closed my eyes. I didn't see it happen. I didn't open them again until I was outside, until I felt the rain and smelled the wet grass and heard Jason's voice. And I don't really know what to do with that. I don't know what to do with _him_."

Without a word, the others encircle Aria, arms around her in an embrace, and don't quite know what to tell her. There is no clear answer; their significant others had done some pretty ridiculous, pretty stupid, pretty _messed up_ things too, in the past, but none quite to this caliber. They hadn't hurt anyone, they hadn't held anyone hostage, they hadn't committed a single murder. It makes Spencer ache for her friend; this is likely something that will isolate her from her friends for the rest of their lives. But she hopes Aria will see that she is not to blame for this; that she, just like the rest of them, is a victim of a terrible circumstance, a predator searching for viable, vulnerable prey. She doesn't speak a word, she doesn't shed a tear, she doesn't move a muscle, but Spencer, Hanna and Emily hold onto her, lock her into a powerful hug, until at last, she stops trembling.

The door bursts open, suddenly, and a disgruntled nurse can be heard shouting, "Ma'am, you _cannot_ go in there! You are not _authorized_ to-"

"I will go wherever I damn well please! I know you're hiding my daughter back here!" Veronica's voice comes next and the moment she steps into the room, all the anger she's previously held dissipates. "Spencer…"

"Mom," Spencer replies automatically and the air deflates from her lungs like a helium balloon. "Oh my god."

From the doorway, the parents flood in and soon, each one of the girls is reunited with their families. Hugs are doled out by the dozen, kisses by the thousand, and the tears flowing left and right are not solely from the women's eyes. Spencer clings to her mother like a lifeline, barely registering the fact that her father and sister are also there, Melissa sobbing dramatically and Peter speaking all kinds of legalese that isn't soothing to anyone, as per the usual. Over her father's shoulder, she can see Ashley Marin and Hanna, bawling at different degrees of hysteria, Ella, Byron and Mike Montgomery, trying desperately to get a hundred different questions out at once despite the fact that Aria is blubbering too hard to answer any of them, and Wayne and Pam Fields, surrounding Emily like a fortress that even the toughest armies would be senseless to try and breach. Spencer pulls away from the hug her father has offered and turns, wrapping herself in her mother's embrace once more as Veronica holds her just as tightly, hastily wiping the tear slipping down her cheek before anyone can see.

But Spencer sees. And this small action makes her ache with longing for her boyfriend.

One by one, the girls are removed from triage and admitted. The nurses bring Spencer a wheelchair and only then does she realize how faint she's feeling, how out of breath and out of shape she is after so many weeks lying on the floor, how the room is spinning out of control and she has a _splitting_ headache and she's pretty sure she's going to collapse without it. They begin to push her down the hallway, her parents on either side of her and Melissa behind, and hesitantly, Spencer glances over her shoulder. He's working. He's busy. She knows. But she'd feel a hell of a whole lot better if he was right here beside her. The nurse informs them that she'll be conducting a physical examination to determine the extent of her injuries and then offers Spencer the comfort of having one of her family members accompany her through this journey. Spencer glances at each of her parents and her sister before hastily shaking her head, much to her father's very visible relief and her mother's mild disappointment. She doesn't see where having them witness this would be any source of comfort to her; in fact, more likely than not, they would only hinder the practice. She'd rather do this the way she's done everything else- on her own.

"I'm sorry- I'll need you to remove your clothes and most likely, you won't be getting them back." The nurse, a kind, older woman with wispy hair, informs her once the door has shut behind them. "The police want to test the fibers for DNA."

 _They're not my clothes. You can burn them for all I care_ , Spencer wants to tell her, but it's no use. There's no way for her to explain Ezra's dire need to play dollhouse that won't make _her_ seem like the raging lunatic. The nurse seems to take her silence as hesitancy and then apologizes a second time. "I'm so sorry. Honey, I wouldn't want to take my clothes off in front of strangers, either; especially not after what you've just been through. My name is Ruth. I've been working here for almost thirty years and, actually, I have granddaughter your age; she goes to your school. I've been following this case since that poor girl went missing two years ago. It really hit close to home and I'm so sorry this happened to you- to all of you. I'm sure this is the first time you've had to go through any examination of this kind, so I'll try to make it as quick and as painless as I can, okay?"

Spencer nods and when Ruth waits expectantly, she begins to peel off her clothing, layer by layer. First to go is the pair of dark washed jeans, spattered with blood, followed by her underwear and that argyle sweater she hopes to never see again, still smelling of damp earth and decaying flesh and vomit. She slips her bra off last and drops it into the plastic bag Ruth is holding open for her with gloved hands and then she glances down at her pale, bruised skin, shivering. Goose bumps arise on her bare skin as Ruth informs her to sit upon the examination table for further inspection. "There. First part's over and the next part is easy. I'm going to take your vitals and I'm going to feel around to be sure you don't have any fractured or broken bones or internal bleeding, okay?"

Again, Spencer nods. She's not sure what else to do. She follows directions; she coughs and turns her head when directed, lies back when instructed and doesn't even flinch when Ruth sweeps over a particularly tender spot over her left eye. A cold metal stethoscope is pressed to her chest and she jumps at the impact, but Ruth is gentle, has excellent bedside manner, and explains everything as she's doing it. She takes Spencer's temperature and blood pressure next before informing her, "Good news is, you don't appear to have any internal bleeding or any bone fractures. Bad news is, you are severely dehydrated and malnourished. A few more days without water and you wouldn't be sitting here having this conversation with me. Did your captor provide you with food or water at all?"

"Not really," Spencer finally speaks and her voice quivers when she does so. "A cup of water each day and very, very little food; sometimes none at all."

Ruth's face grows sympathetic as she asks, "Are you hungry, Spencer?"

And it's a loaded question, really. Her stomach is a vacuous, bottomless pit and she's pretty sure she could eat and eat and never feel full. But on the other hand, any time she allows her mind to touch upon the mere idea of food, she thinks of the maggots and blowflies that had scurried all around the dingy floor, the body they had accidentally stumbled upon that smelled so vile it had burned the skin inside her nose, and the fact that Alison, gone before her time, will never eat again. And at these thoughts, any desire for eating completely leaves her. Sure, she desperately needs food to survive, but she's not sure she could let any pass her lips right now without seeing it again very, very shortly.

Ruth lets this go. She says, "I'm going to take a blood sample to test for any infections. We're almost done, I promise."

"And then what?" Spencer asks, sticking out her arm as Ruth swabs the crook of her elbow with alcohol, the scent oddly comforting. "What happens next?"

"Well… There's one final part to our examination before we move you upstairs to your room." Ruth tells her. "We'll get you on your road to recovery soon enough."

"Will I get to shower?" She then asks, feeling almost hopeful at the thought. "Brush my teeth?"

Ruth frowns. "Of course. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry he denied you those basic rights."

Spencer glances away, her feelings and emotions all over the place, before glancing at her blood slowly being drawn into the vial in Ruth's hand. "Do you know if the police are still here?"

"They are. I imagine they'll be here until the moment you and your friends are released." Ruth says. "They'll bring you in for questioning, I'm told, but not until you and your friends are in a better state. For now, they'll just have to make do with standing by and making sure that all of you are safe."

At this, Spencer glances up. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you've all been put under 24-hour surveillance." Ruth explains. "Which, if you ask me, is too little, too late. The damage is already done. But what do I know?"

Spencer chews on her lip, contemplative, thinking only of Toby. In fact, her thoughts are so consumed by him, Spencer completely misses Ruth as she tapes a cotton ball to her elbow and pulls out a kit full of even more evidence bags and swabs. Her heart begins to slam against her ribcage, her blood races with adrenaline instantly and suddenly, she feels nauseous. She knows _exactly_ what this means. Ruth looks so sympathetic, so profoundly sorry, but yet, still professional, as she asks, "Have you ever had this kind of testing performed on you before?"

Rapidly, Spencer shakes her head and can feel the tears stinging the backs of her eyes. "No."

"Good. I was hoping you'd say that." Ruth exhales heavily. "I wish it wasn't necessary, but given the nature of your kidnapping and your prolonged exposure to violence paired with the significant evidence of sexual abuse on the body that was found in the same location you were… The police requested it. I'm so sorry."

Again, she tries to nod, to push through her pain and misery, but her voice comes out as a squeak. "It's okay."

"I'll move quickly but thoroughly." Ruth assures her. "And I'll try to make this as painless as I can."

She holds it together for about five seconds, maybe ten. Tears spill over her cheeks while Ruth swabs every orifice, combs her hair, and scrapes beneath her nails. She weeps openly and Ruth does nothing to quiet her, allows her the moment she needs to break down, and Spencer's sure she's seen this before. It's now, it's _right now_ , that she realizes just how close she came to losing her life. She'd forced herself, even in the darkest moments of starvation and the emptiness that had followed upon finding Alison's body, to stay alert, to stay determined and to stay strong in order to somehow find her way out of that hellhole. She hadn't allowed herself even a second to think about the possibility of never getting out, of suffocating down there, of starving to death or being electrocuted or bashed over the head with a brick as he'd killed Alison. She wouldn't let her mind go there and so it never did. But now, sitting here as this kind nurse combs her body for evidence of abuse, Spencer realizes that just hours ago, she had been on death's door.

By some miracle, someone had granted her a second chance.

"I'm so sorry." Ruth tells her the moment she's finished, handing her a hospital gown as Spencer hastily pulls it on, shielding her battered, malnourished body from sight. "We're all finished, now. Why don't we get you upstairs so you can rest?"

Spencer nods and wipes at her eyes, her cheeks, her nose, before asking, "Can you do me a favor?"

"Anything, honey."

"There's an officer here- Toby Cavanaugh- and I know he's probably busy, but if you see him, could you tell him what room I'll be in?"

Ruth looks hesitant and Spencer can feel fresh tears start to burn in her eyes. "Spencer, we're only allowed to give that kind of information out to family members. He can visit you during regular visiting hours, if you'd like, between-"

"But…" Spencer cuts her off and then falters a bit, unsure of what to say. She glances at her lap and squeezes her fingers together in order to keep the tears from falling. "Please. He _is_ my family."

She softens and says, "I'll see what I can do."

Gingerly, she steps down off of the table and studiously ignores the bags of evidence on the cart beside her. The door opens again and all eyes are on her once more; Peter looks as though he's going to be sick, Veronica is pacing the floor but stops dead at the sight of her daughter and Melissa has silent tears pouring down her face and begins to ask a million questions at once. A second nurse appears at Spencer's side, guides her into the wheelchair and takes her into the elevator as Ruth rolls the cart full of evidence out of the room, stopping quickly to squeeze Spencer's hand and promise that she's truly on the mend, now. Spencer hopes it's true. In mere minutes, they arrive and never has a hospital bed looked more inviting than in this very moment. The nurse sets up her IV and arterial line before explaining some kind of medical mumbo jumbo that makes Spencer's head spin. He tells her he'll be back to check on her every hour on the hour, to get some rest, that she's lucky. Her family tells her they're so relieved she's home, that they're going to sue the town until the perpetrator is brought to justice, that they're going to be here, right here, when she wakes up.

Spencer feels like she's underwater. Her eyelids go heavy, her limbs slacken, and she falls into a strangely dreamless sleep.

* * *

The next time he sees her, she's hooked to a few different machines, a tiny, too-skinny thing nearly swallowed whole by her hospital bed, and she's fast asleep.

He breathes a sigh of relief at this, but also has the lingering feeling that one of those needles in her hand had provided her with some sort of sedative, because given what she's seen and her previous history with anxiety, Toby's pretty sure there's no way she had fallen asleep on her own without issue. Her parents and sister are at her bedside and Toby watches from the doorway for a moment, unsure or perhaps unwilling to disturb the family unit. His mind is still reeling with everything his former coworkers had just informed him of anyway; he's not sure he could possibly sort through all the details and still be able to form a sentence. But they must feel eyes upon them; shortly after his arrival, Melissa glances up and smiles, asking him to join them and as he does, Veronica greets him with a hug, Peter with a shake of the hand.

Hours pass and Spencer sleeps. As the evening wanes into night, Melissa yawns about five thousand times before announcing she's going home and will return in the morning. She instructs each of the other members in the room to send Spencer her love should she awaken again. It doesn't take long for Peter and Veronica, in that order, to follow; the former decides he has a very important visit to make to the Rosewood Police Department and the latter claims she has court in the morning, but will make an appearance later tomorrow afternoon. It doesn't deter Toby in the slightest; to be honest, he'd actually been quite surprised at how long they'd stayed. He yawns the slightest bit, pulls his chair closer to Spencer's bedside and settles in, preparing to stay the night. When her attending nurse comes in a little after midnight to check on her and eyes him strangely, Toby stands his ground and prepares to flash his badge… until he realizes he'd dropped said badge at Tanner's feet about a week earlier.

Luckily for him, the nurse says nothing and the next thing Toby knows, warm rays of sunshine spill into the room and it's a brand new day.

He doesn't remember falling asleep, but he must've; his watch chimes with the new hour- it's 9 a.m.- and his neck aches from the awkward sleeping position. Instantly, his free hand flocks to his sore muscles, the other still enclosed even now, hours later, around Spencer's. He glances at her now and notices she's still sound asleep, breathing evenly. She looks so peaceful; it makes him almost dread the moment she awakens and all the shit from yesterday comes back to her. It makes his heart clench with pain and he promises not to let anyone near this girl for the rest of her life. The same nurse from the night before comes in and blinks at Toby, noting he's still here, and Toby dares him to try something. He's not about to leave her for any reason; they would quite literally have to pry him from her bedside with the Jaws of Life. Luckily for him, it doesn't appear the nurse has any interest in that; he checks her vitals, adjusts a dosage of something Toby can't make out, and then makes a note of this change on her clipboard.

"How's she doing?" Toby dares to ask and the nurse shrugs.

"The same. She has a minor viral infection; it's what the antibiotics are for." The nurse says. "The IV will replace some of her lost nutrients, but we'll have to get solid food into her when she wakes up. Not something I want to rush, though; sleep is the body's best way of recovering."

Nodding, Toby asks, "Is that why she's slept almost twelve hours?"

"That, and the mild sedative we issued her yesterday." The nurse goes on. "She should be coming out of the throes of that in just a bit. Whether or not she stays asleep after that is all up to her."

He leaves the couple alone and Toby gently slips his hand from Spencer's, standing and heading over to the window, staring into the day as it burns brightly before him. He doesn't know what's going to happen next. He has no idea what state of mind Spencer's going to be in when she awakens. He has no idea when she'll ever be released from this place and he has no idea how he's going to help her try and get back into a normal life. What is a normal life after all she's seen? How can anything ever be normal again after she's been rescued from an underground bunker where she was beaten and deprived of food and water and had witnessed unspeakable things? Just the thought makes him sick to his stomach. He doesn't know how he'll ever be able to make things okay or how he'll ever be any source of comfort to her at all.

But he'll do everything in his power; of that, he is certain.

"Toby?"

He whirls around suddenly and finds that Spencer is wide awake, pushing back the blankets and attempting to get out of bed, to get to _him_. He crosses the room in two long strides and is easily thwarting her efforts, halting her ministrations. "Hey, hey, where do you think you're going? Who told you that you could get out of bed?"

"Fine, I'll stay in bed, just- hold me, please. _Please_." Spencer pleads as he tucks the blankets more firmly around her. He sinks onto the bed beside her and his arms are around her within an instant.

"It's okay." He tells her over and over, stroking her hair, kissing her temple, as she continues to take deep, shuddering breaths against him. "It's okay."

"No, it's not."

"Okay, well it's going to be okay."

"How do you know?"

"Because you've already gotten through the worst part of it." Toby tells her, pulling away just a tad to look her in the eye. "You've gone through hell and back. You came out the other side. And yeah, recovery is probably going to be hell. But all hell ends, eventually. You're a survivor. You're a badass. And it can only get better from here."

She drinks in his words, every single one of them, before pulling him back into an embrace and professing, "Thank you. I love you so much."

"I love you too. More than anything." He replies. "And I'll be with you every step of the way. I promise. You won't have to do any of this alone."

"You have no idea how much that means to me."

"I'll protect you with everything I have." Toby promises and at her smirk, he adds, "Seriously! No one will be able to even look at you funny without having to deal with me."

"Well, I guess there _are_ benefits to having a boyfriend who's a cop." Spencer muses, letting her arms drop from around him but keeping a tight hold on both of his hands. "Who would've thought?"

Toby hesitates. " _Ex_ -cop."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"I kind of quit last week." Toby admits and Spencer's eyes go wide.

"Without me knowing?" Spencer exclaims. "I didn't get a chance to get you a cake or plan a party."

He chuckles a bit. "I don't need a party. And I _definitely_ don't need Tanner and her bullshit."

"What happened?" Spencer asks, leaning back against the pillows, yawning. "I mean, you never liked it, but you were doing so well."

"Not according to Tanner." Toby shakes his head. "Apparently, in her words, I would shit on my oath if it meant keeping you safe. I didn't appreciate her lack of decorum, so… I turned in my badge."

"That was completely unprofessional of her." She shakes her head and then bites her lip, eyeing him almost shyly. "But she has a point."

"Hey, I only took this job to protect you; I told you that from the start." Toby shrugs. "I'm not going to choose. I'm not going to let her force me into picking my job over your safety. That's not going to happen."

"It already did." Spencer says, squeezing his hand. "You _did_ choose."

He smiles a bit. "Yeah. I guess I did."

After a beat, Spencer asks, "So you were saying on the way back… something about our names being cleared? Cleared from what? What did we do?"

"Nothing." Toby replies. "But there was no convincing Tanner of that. She and her team of idiots were sure that you and the girls were responsible for murdering both Mona and Alison and that the reason for your disappearance was that you were on the run, not that you were kidnapped."

"Great." Spencer frowns. "And everyone believed this?"

"Well, not everyone." Toby tells her. "She removed me from the case after I suggested the truth and I quit shortly thereafter. A friend of mine helped get me into contact with the SWAT team, Caleb, Jason and Paige wanted to help, and… Well, here you are."

"Here we are." Spencer echoes. "A bit of a disaster, but at least we're alive, right? The same can't be said for…"

She stops abruptly, glancing at their intertwined hands. Toby's brow furrows in concern as he asks, "Please tell me you weren't the one to find Alison's body."

"I would love to tell you that." Spencer says, her gaze still cast downward. "But we promised we wouldn't lie to each other anymore, remember?"

Toby's heart clenches painfully. "Oh, Spencer…"

"I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy." She says and her voice is hollow and eerie; it sends a chill down Toby's spine. "Not even him. And he's the one who did it."

"I wanted him to burn in hell for this." Toby shakes his head. "I wanted him to rot in prison for the rest of his pathetic life. And instead-"

"Instead he got the easy way out, too." Spencer finishes and Toby frowns, but nods. "But at least I know it's _really_ over, now. I won't be getting any mysterious or anonymous texts from some prison cell, or something. He's gone… so –A's gone, too."

Toby nods, rubbing her shoulder in sympathy, and she smiles warily at him, so much exhaustion in her eyes despite the many hours she's just slept. He wonders how long it'll take before the horrors will leave the forefront of her mind, before the pain and bruises will heal, before her color will come back and the meat will return to her bones. They sit like this for a moment, regarding one another, and then there's a knock on the door and a doctor Toby hasn't yet seen has entered, a smile on his face despite the heavy seriousness in his dark eyes. "I'm sorry to interrupt. I saw that you were awake, Spencer, and I didn't want to miss the opportunity."

"No, that's alright." Spencer shakes her head and then asks, "You're my doctor?"

"One of them," The man nods. "Dr. Quinlan. Pleased to see officially meet you. How are you feeling?"

"Groggy." She shrugs. "A bit sore. Still kind of starving."

"Right," Dr. Quinlan chuckles. "Well, that IV in your arm is pumping in some nice liquid nourishment, but why don't we supplement that with some solid food as well, okay?"

"Okay."

"Actually, the reason I'm here, believe it or not, isn't to take your lunch order," Dr. Quinlan jokes and Spencer's face doesn't change. "I and a few of my team members have been assigned to assess your physical condition and to bring you back to health as quickly as possible, but the kind of trauma you've gone through does a number on your mental health, as well. Many of my colleagues from the psych ward have also taken a liking to you and your wellbeing."

"The psych ward?" Spencer echoes and even from his spot beside her, Toby can see panic in her eyes, can hear her heart beating wildly against her chest. "I don't… I don't think-"

"Spencer, you were held in captivity for five and a half, nearly six, weeks." The doctor points out as if the two in the room haven't been agonizing over this for the better half of their conversation. "You witnessed things even some professionals can't handle. We're going to need to see where your head's at, in layman's terms."

"I don't need it." Spencer disagrees. "I can't- I _won't_ go back there."

Dr. Quinlan, at this, reaches for her medical records and nods. "Ah. I see. About a year ago, you spent some time at our sister institution, Radley Sanitarium. It says here you were under a seventy-two hour observation and psychiatric care. Mind if I ask why?"

"I had a mental breakdown." She says, her voice so small Toby can barely hear her despite his proximity, and she doesn't dare look at him. "But I've recovered since then and I don't need-"

"Actually," Dr. Quinlan interrupts again, his brow knitting with concern. "Considering what you've seen and your history of mental health problems, I find it incumbent that you receive psychiatric care while you're here and the sooner, the better."

"Dr. Quinlan, please," She shakes her head, growing hysterical. "Please, I _can't_ go back there. I can't."

"Isn't there another way?" Toby asks, desperate for some relief, for a break in his girlfriend's misery. "Can't someone visit her here or-"

"Pardon my interruption, but you both seem to be misunderstanding me." Dr. Quinlan cuts them off. "I never mentioned readmitting you into Radley, Spencer. I hardly think that things are at that point. You seem to remember what happened to you, you have a sense of yourself most of the patients in there do not, and we were having a pretty levelheaded conversation before I brought up something that upset you. And for that, I apologize."

She relaxes the tiniest bit. "It's okay."

"I do not think I'll be sending you to the psych ward and I definitely won't be sending you to Radley." Dr. Quinlan continues. "But it also isn't my place to judge your mental health and you will be receiving a psychiatric evaluation within the next few minutes or so."

"An evaluation?" Spencer asks. "What does that entail?"

"Well, a mental health professional is going to talk to you about the things you've experienced while you were being held." Dr. Quinlan explains. "It's routine in a kidnapping case. And honestly Spencer, the more you talk, the better sense the doctor will get of where you are and the better chance _you_ have of staying out of a psychiatric institution."

Anxiety colors Spencer's face and Toby squeezes both of her hands in his, asking, "You said this is happening now?"

"Within the next few minutes, yes." Dr. Quinlan confirms. "We're just waiting for our doctor to arrive."

"Right here? In this room?" Spencer wonders and when the doctor nods, she pleads, "Can Toby stay? Please? I don't want to do this alone."

Sympathy washes over Dr. Quinlan's face and Toby can tell before he says it that he's about to say no. "Unfortunately not. This evaluation will go in your medical records and will therefore be completely confidential. No third parties allowed; not even me."

Spencer does not appear placated in the slightest. Toby turns to her, locking her eyes with his, and says, "It's okay. It's going to be fine. Just tell this doctor what you can; only what you feel comfortable saying. I'll be right outside the door the whole time."

She nods but implores, "You're not going to leave?"

"My whole world is sitting right here in this bed," Toby tells her and she smiles- genuinely, this time. "Where else would I go?"

Smirking, Spencer tells him, "Your whole world is being so clingy right now."

"You're not being clingy. You're just sticking with what you know; who you trust. After what you've been through, I think that's okay. It's going to take a while for you to get that trust back." Toby says and watches the tension ease from her shoulders. "This is the first step. Talking about what you went through with someone who can help you process it is going to make a world of difference. You don't have to say anything you aren't ready for, but get what you can off your chest and out of your mind so you can breathe again. And then, you'll be able to start to heal."

She reaches forward and captures his lips with hers before burying her face in his neck, his arms coming around her automatically. "I wouldn't have survived any of this without you. You're my angel, Toby Cavanaugh. You're my saving grace."

He holds her a little tighter, pressing another kiss to her hair. "Right back at you."

Another knock on the door causes the lovers to loosen their hold on one another and when they glance at their visitor, their eyes widen in shock and recognition. Dr. Anne Sullivan stands, beaming, in the doorway, and says, "It's a small world, isn't it?"

Toby can tell Spencer's at a loss for words, so he says, "I'll be right outside if you need me, but I don't think you will. You're in good hands."

He lets them be, heading out of the room as Spencer sits a little straighter and Dr. Sullivan takes the occupied chair at her side, asking a few warm up questions to catch up with her former patient. Toby closes the door behind him, stepping into the hall that's a bustle with activity, and comes to stand at the window, able to watch from afar to be sure this process of delving into her psyche doesn't cause her too much pain. She'll heal. She's the strongest person he knows, the most resilient, easily, by far, and he knows she'll get through this. It'll be difficult for them both- her, to relive these horrors and him, watching her suffer through them- but he knows nothing can break them, anyway. They're solid, steady, unyielding; an indestructible unit that not even the world's worst circumstances can shake. He knows this for a fact, for they've just encountered them. He wouldn't wish these past six weeks of hell on even his worst enemy. He'd like to go home, with Spencer, and take a very long nap to recover from all of this agony.

Footsteps on the shiny linoleum distract him for only a moment and when he looks up, Detective Tanner is coming towards him in slow, steady strides. Toby frowns and turns his attention back to Spencer, who's wringing her hands as she speaks, eyes cast downward. "What could you possibly want?"

"I came to check on the girls." Tanner speaks evenly and Toby wonders where she gets the nerve. "I wanted to see if Spencer was okay."

"Well, no thanks to you, she's safe and alive." Toby tells her. "A couple more days and she wouldn't have been."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Tanner frowns. "Really, I am. The best possible outcome was always to have as little young blood on our hands as possible."

"Right."

"And," Tanner inhales a deep breath. "I want to apologize to you, too, Toby for casting aspersions when I shouldn't have. I was out of line, it was unprofessional, and it was uncalled for. I will learn to keep a better check on my emotions in the field."

"Thanks." Toby shrugs, his gaze unchanging. "I appreciate that."

"It took a lot of courage to go against authority, Cavanaugh." Tanner continues. "You went with your gut and in the end, it paid off. You were right; you were right about this whole thing. If we had half the brains and bravery you have on the force, we'd be in for a treat. You have all the makings of a chief, I believe."

At this, Toby turns to face her. "What are you saying?"

"Here. Take it." Tanner says, holding out the badge he'd dropped at her feet a week prior. "You've earned it after all you went through."

And at first, he does. He slips the cool metal between his fingers, turns it over and over, reads the engraved motto: _to serve and protect._ Then, he shakes his head and deposits it back into her open palm. "No."

Tanner balks. "No?"

"I meant what I said." Toby tells her. "I'm done. I'm pretty sure a career in law enforcement isn't for me."

Tanner frowns. "But with proper training-"

"From you?" Toby asks. "No thank you. I have too much integrity for that."

At this, Tanner's eyes narrow and her fingers close over the badge, her fist shoving roughly into her pocket. She turns indignantly and stalks away, leaving a very satisfied Toby in her wake. He exhales, smiling, and turns his attention back on the room only to find Spencer leaning back against the pillows and Dr. Sullivan standing and heading for the door. Are they finished? Has he really been out here that long? When the door opens, Toby asks, anxiously, "Is she okay?"

"No. I'm afraid not." Dr. Sullivan shakes her head, yet there is a small smile tugging at her lips. "But she will be. She'll get through this."

Toby nods. "Of course she will."

"She'll avoid residential care, but she's not getting off scot-free; none of them are." Dr. Sullivan informs him. "We're going to meet weekly. We've already set up our schedule."

Toby says, "Thank you."

He reenters the room and returns to his chair at Spencer's bedside, immediately linking hands with hers. Toby sends her an inquisitive glance, unsure of what is running through her mind, but she merely shakes her hand and lifts their intertwined fingers to press a kiss to the back of his hand. All is well, at least for now. Soon enough, her parents and sister return and they each take turns embracing Spencer, asking after her wellbeing, and bitching at the nurse who comes in every so often to tell them the patient cannot have more than two visitors at a time. It seems like things are beginning to fall back into place, to settle after so much activity, and Toby watches Spencer like a hawk the whole afternoon and starts to see the girl he'd fallen in love with instead of the harrowed, haunted shell of her he'd seen the day prior. It's evening and they'd just gotten Spencer to stomach some solid food when Melissa announces it, jumping as if she's been shocked and reaching into her purse, digging.

"I almost forgot," She says, producing a small plastic bag from the bowels of her purse just moments later. "I stopped by the police department to see if they had recovered any of your items from where you'd been held and they released all of them to me. No need to thank me; it was on my way."

Spencer takes the bag from her sister, carefully undoing the plastic and dumping all of its contents onto the bed before her. Out spills her wallet, her car keys, her cell phone, and Veronica asks, "Honey, are these the things you had on you when you were…kidnapped?"

"Yeah." Spencer answers shortly, completely disregarding everything but the cell phone, which she inspects at every angle but doesn't turn on.

"Well, at least now you'll be able to start to get your life back." Peter retorts and Spencer glances at him a moment but says nothing.

She pauses, stares hard at the cell phone in her hand and then reels back her hand. It's left her grasp at such an impressive velocity and before anyone can question it, the cell phone crashes into the opposing wall and explodes into a thousand pieces all over the ground.

"What the hell?" Melissa exclaims. "What the hell are you doing?"

But Toby understands. And he smiles as Spencer says, "I'm getting my life back."

And she smiles, too.

* * *

They're released from the hospital the morning of Alison's memorial service. Jason had planned it this way so they all could attend.

Spencer takes one look at herself in the bathroom mirror of her hospital room, under the dim orange lighting, and frowns. It's not a dress she would've chosen herself, but then again, she hadn't. Her mother had brought it this morning from the depths of her closet and though she's grateful to not have to go into her bedroom herself, this dress wouldn't have been her first choice. She supposes her mother had chosen it because it was black, but it hangs off of her now, unflattering. A couple of awful hospital meals hadn't completely brought the meat back to her bones (even though Toby had been sneaking her food any chance he got) and, strangely enough, this makes her almost glad they had missed out on their senior prom. The dress she'd spent hours with Hanna looking for would never have fit now, anyway.

Painstakingly, she does her makeup for the first time in months. Her eyeliner smudges and she pokes herself in the eye no less than five times with the mascara wand, but eventually she believes her appearance to be at least satisfactory. The heels her mother had brought her feel unfamiliar and a tad uncomfortable as she slips them on her feet, but then again, she'd been barefoot for almost two months; any shoe, at this point, would feel foreign to her. Her family's waiting for her the moment she steps out of the bathroom, release papers already signed, and before she can even ask, her mother tells her they'd sent Toby home to shower and change and that he'd meet them at the church. Spencer feels almost guilty for that; surely, by now, they must have realized she'd much rather be with him than with them, but they've never commented. She wonders if it's because they know that it's their fault.

A warm breeze greets them the moment they step out of the hospital doors and Spencer closes her eyes, breathing in the soft, soothing scent of freedom.

It's wholesome and liberating. Freedom smells like fresh air and sunshine, like humidity rolling off of hot pavement, like freshly mown grass and orchids and sweet honey; the magnificent scent of early summer.

The church bells are ringing by the time they arrive and it still sends a shiver down her spine even now to think of the night she'd almost lost her life here. She leaves her parents somewhere in the crowd and instead finds the girls; they started this together and they'll finish it together, too. As a unit, they make their way to the front of the church, each taking a turn hugging Jason, who looks so weary and so ready for all of this to be over. There's no casket, no photograph of Alison and no flowers, this time; Jason and Kenneth DiLaurentis had, upon the completion of the autopsy and DNA testing, sealed Alison's body in the mausoleum across town and therefore, today they are sending Alison away with a prayer for peace and the hope that she is truly at rest now. Spencer is, honestly, surprised by how many people show up to finally bid farewell to their fallen friend. Each pew is packed and there are people lined up along the walls, standing room only. She wonders how many of these people had come because they felt guilty for celebrating her disappearance. She wonders how many of these people had actually known Alison at all.

At the end, Spencer finally finds Toby in the crowd and wraps her arms around him in an embrace. He tucks her more firmly against him and whispers, "She can finally rest, now. She's home."

Spencer nods, unable to speak. After all, that _is_ all Alison had wanted.

They head home after the congregation lets out and Spencer isn't sure what to feel, now. Perhaps she's supposed to feel relief; she's returning home after such a long time away. Perhaps she's supposed to feel excited; it's the home she's grown up in, has countless memories in, the one she's lived in her entire life. She doesn't feel either of these things. In fact, the closer they grow to home, the more and more anxious Spencer gets and by the time the car's in park, Toby turns to look at her and his expression changes. Her mouth has gone dry, but she nods when he asks if she's okay and they climb out of the truck, walk hand in hand into the house. Melissa's purchased a cake and is slipping it out of the box and onto a plate in celebration, as if she's merely been away at summer camp instead of being held in captivity underground by a murderous sociopath, but Spencer appreciates the sentiment, anyway. It's getting late; Peter suggests ordering Chinese and Veronica invites Toby to stay with them for dinner and he accepts. Spencer, honestly, just wants to change out of these heels and this dress and, though her heart pounds at the thought, she excuses herself upstairs.

It's a mistake.

The second she steps into her bedroom, everything comes flooding back. This is her bed and her closet with her clothes and her desk and her bookshelf with her books and her rocking chair and everything is _actually_ hers, everything is real, but none of it _feels_ real and suddenly she can't breathe, she can't think, because all that floods her mind is the darkness, the wall instead of the open air and view of the DiLaurentis property, the concrete instead of the warm, inviting bed sheets and comfy mattress, and the floor will come alive if she's not careful, burn a searing pain into her skin if she doesn't choose, and she doesn't want to choose but she'll _die_ if she doesn't, and this is her room, this is her _actual_ room, but she can't see past her inner torment, can't hear anything over the sound of the tinny voice, _choose one or all will suffer_ , and the walls are closing in on her and she cannot breathe and tears spill down her cheeks and then a stiff breeze from the open window blows the bedroom door shut and now she's alone _again_ and she's trapped _again_ and there is no way of getting out.

She doesn't know how long she sits here, trembling on the floor, but soon there's a knock on her door and Toby calls from the hallway, "Hey, you okay in there? The food's here; your mom sent me up to check on you."

Scrambling to her feet, Spencer crosses the room and yanks the door open with great force, barely able to make out the concern in Toby's eyes before she launches herself into his arms. "I can't stay here. I can't stay here. I can't. I can't be in that room. I can't be alone. I can't."

"What happened?" Toby asks, and slowly, Spencer feels the iron grip on her lungs begin to lessen. "You're having a panic attack. What's going on?"

"I can't be in that room." She repeats, shaking her head. "I can't stay here. I'll never be able to sleep here tonight."

Realization must dawn upon him, for he nods and murmurs, "The bunker. Right. I didn't even think-"

"Can we go to your place?" She asks. "Please. I don't want to sleep by myself and I definitely can't be here."

"Spence," He laments, looking mournful. "Your parents would never allow that."

"I can talk to them." She shakes her head. "I can ask. You never know."

"We _do_ know." Toby sighs. "As lenient as they always have been with you, regardless of circumstance, you and I both know they're not about to give the okay to a co-ed sleepover. Especially not your father."

Spencer pulls away, frowning, arms crossed over her chest indignantly. "It's happened dozens of times without them even knowing."

"Yeah but bringing that up is definitely not the way to convince them to let it happen tonight." He smirks but she doesn't crack a smile. "Look, let's go downstairs. Let's get some food into you. And then we can work something out. You can maybe sleep on the couch, right? It's a big, open space; you wouldn't feel suffocated and it isn't your bedroom."

She glances at the floor, hating how vulnerable her voice sounds to her own ears, how weak she feels in this very moment. "I'll still be alone."

"I'll stay with you until you fall asleep." He suggests. "They can't be opposed to that, can they?"

"I don't know. They're opposed to everything."

"We'll talk to them. I'll even promise to keep my hands to myself."

"Where's the fun in that?"

He grins and this time, she manages a small smile in return as they make their way downstairs together. He hasn't left her side since the moment he'd discovered her in that bunker and for this, she's eternally grateful. But being back here in this house leaves her with a deep seated anxious feeling, an uneasiness that plagues her mind, and she knows she'll never be able to get past it, therapy be damned. She knows for a fact, even though her parents agree a bit hesitantly to let Toby stay until she's fallen asleep, that she won't actually be _getting_ any sleep tonight. Every time she closes her eyes, the horrors haunt her, transporting her to that underground lair where she had unearthed the deepest, darkest secrets she could have ever hoped to find. Night falls, her parents and sister retreat to their own bedrooms and Spencer makes herself as comfortable as she can on the couch in the living room, Toby sitting beside her in an armchair.

And she does not sleep.

She loses track of how many times she's counted the dips and curves of the pattern on their vaulted ceiling. The grandfather clock chimes with the hour and Toby rises quietly, reaching for his car keys. Spencer asks, "Can we go to the loft now?"

He sighs and she can tell she's caught him off guard. "I thought you were asleep."

"I told you. I told _all_ of you." Spencer sits, stretching, and pushes back the blankets, stepping onto the floor. "I can't sleep alone. And I definitely can't sleep here. This is where it all happened."

Toby looks hesitant for just a moment before nodding her along. "Come on. Let's get you out of here before they wake up for work."

Heart racing with something other than fear for once, Spencer slips shoes onto her feet and joins him at the doorway, locking it behind her. They're halfway to the truck when the barn door opens and Melissa, in a bathrobe, steps out asking, "Where do you think you're going at this time of night?"

Spencer frowns. "What are you doing awake?"

"Dad put me on Spencer watch. He said you were a flight risk." Melissa replies, smirking. "He wasn't wrong, I see."

"So you're here to, what?" Spencer asks, irritated. "Tell on me? Drag me back to the house by my hair?"

"What are we, eight? We're not kids anymore. I'm not about to tattle." Melissa scoffs, rolling her eyes. "You're an adult. You can make your own decisions. If you need to run off with your boyfriend in the middle of the night, be my guest. But at least text someone and tell them where you're going. You were just missing for six weeks, Spencer. We don't need that stress again."

"I don't have a phone." Spencer replies. "We're just going to the loft. Really. I'm not about to hop a flight to Mexico."

Melissa nods and turns back to the barn, yawning. "I'll pass the message along."

The moment they're free, they head for the truck, drive across town and climb the stairs to Toby's loft. Instantly, Spencer feels one hundred percent better and without hesitation, she makes a beeline for the bedroom, stripping down to her underwear and crawling into his bed. She pulls her body flush against his after he does the same and closes her eyes. _Home._ This is what home feels like. Teasingly, Toby drops a kiss to her crown and asks, "This what you wanted?"

She nods against him before replying, "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For everything." Spencer tells him because she cannot narrow it down. Not now, perhaps not ever. "I'm sorry I'm such a mess."

"You aren't a mess."

"No, I am. In more ways than one." Spencer replies quietly. "But I'm working on it. I'm trying. I'll get better, I promise."

Toby smiles and presses another kiss to her temple. "I have no doubt about that."

She grins blissfully- she's never been more grateful for a human being in all her life- and his even breathing and rhythmic heartbeat lulls her into unconsciousness.

And they sleep.


	10. Ten

**Hello, hello, hello! Happy update Tuesday for the last time! Yes, we've reached the end of yet another one of my ridiculous stories. Honestly, I'm ready to see this go. It was a lot of work but I'm glad I did write and post it and I'm glad I have all of you wonderful people to stick it out and put up with my nonsense for so long. You guys are honestly the reason I'm still writing, you have to know that. I wouldn't be here- I would be nothing, in fact- without you. So honestly, from the bottom of my heart, thank you all so incredibly much for your support. I seriously cannot thank you enough.  
**

 **I jumped forward in time in this chapter just a few years or so. I hope that's not too tired of a concept. This, of course, will most likely not be the last time you hear from me. I have a few tiny ideas that may or may not blossom into stories in the future. We shall see. But until then, thank you all for reading, thank you extra for reviewing if you choose to, and I hope you all have a wonderful day! Love you guys!**

* * *

Ten

"There is some good in this world, and it's worth fighting for." – J. R. R. Tolkien, " _The Two Towers_ "

It's strange, really; they've been together for _years_ (they've stopped counting) and yet, she still gets butterflies every time she sees him.

The first time she'd ever been in Heathrow Airport, she'd gotten lost. They had been together, of course, but had gone their separate ways to use the restroom and had decided to meet one another at baggage claim. Instead, Spencer had wandered aimlessly, following the overhead signs and still not quite getting it right, and it would have been almost funny if she wasn't in a foreign country with no real way of getting into contact with the one person she knew there. Instantly, she regretted their decision to part (her bladder's fault) and their decision to meet elsewhere instead of waiting outside for one another (her stubbornness, surely) because this airport was _massive_. Easily the biggest one she'd ever been in; multiple terminals, multiple gates, multiple airplanes landing and taking off, depositing locals who frowned at the sight of this silly little girl, this _American_ , running around the airport like a lost child.

She found Toby nearly thirty minutes later, walking the opposite way between a Sunglass Hut and a Swarovski (which made _so_ much sense to Spencer; everyone travels with crystals, right?) and they'd laughed about it for about ten minutes straight.

Eventually, they'd found baggage claim, but they hadn't made the best first impression on London. Spencer had teased him endlessly about not knowing his way by now- he _did_ have the advantage of having already been here before- and he'd countered with the fact that Heathrow is ridiculous and impossible to navigate. He hadn't been wrong; with four terminals interspersed with countless shops and eateries, it felt, to Spencer, much more like a shopping mall than an airport. But this, of course, was five years ago; she's done a pretty good job of finding her way tonight. It's nearing ten p.m.; his flight was supposed to have landed two hours ago but some terrible storm over France had delayed him much to her disappointment. In her boredom, she had pretty much browsed through every single shop in the terminal and, throwing caution to the wind, had bought the cheapest flight she could in order to meet him at the gate. She's missed him terribly and wants every last second with him she can possibly get, but she's also seen the movies. She isn't getting past security without a boarding pass.

A little after ten, she gets herself a coffee because it's been a long day and she's crashing _hard_ and makes her way over to his arrival gate. Oddly enough, there's a plane already there and many of its passengers are disembarking; at this sight, her entire body buzzes with anticipation. It's been maybe a week but each day had felt like ten years; she watches each and every one of the passengers file out of the plane and scans the crowd of cranky, overtired travelers for Toby to no avail. She begins to wonder if she's missed him somehow, darting in and out of the other passengers in an attempt to get his luggage and get out of here as fast as he could, in order to get home to her. She glances all around but doesn't seem to find him; instead, the flight crew heads out of the airplane as well and boarding for the next flight begins. Had he missed his flight? No, he couldn't have; he would've told her first chance he got. Did she have the wrong gate? She checks his flight information with the arrivals board and it's a match. She's in the right place. So where is _he?_

Just as she starts to panic, her phone begins to ring.

"Toby?" She answers on the first ring. "How are you calling me right now?"

"We just landed. We've been taxiing on the runway for at least five minutes because there's another plane at the gate we're supposed to pull into."

"Oh." Spencer sighs in relief. "Okay, you scared me. I thought you were stuck in Barcelona and you were calling to tell me your flight had been canceled or something."

"Thankfully, no, but a two and a half hour delay is bad enough."

"You're telling me." Spencer agrees, watching as the gate agent gives the final boarding call. "How long, do you think?"

"Shouldn't be more than another five, ten minutes at the most. I'm sorry. I was supposed to take you to dinner tonight-"

"It's past my bedtime, at this point." She chuckles. "That ship has sailed."

"- and now I'm probably not going to see you at all. This is not going how I planned it."

"Me either."

"I miss you like crazy."

"Me too, but it's just a bit longer, now." Spencer says. "I can't wait to see you."

"I'll call you if I ever get off this plane. When I'm on the tube home."

"Deal." Spencer replies and can barely suppress her grin.

After what feels like ages, the departing flight pulls back from the gate and taxis out to the runway, leaving an open space that's occupied moments later by the aircraft she's been so anxiously awaiting. Heart racing, Spencer stands a bit straighter as the gate agent pulls the door open and exhausted passengers begin to filter out, crying children and elderly women in wheelchairs and yawning businessmen, checking their watches. In a moment, she spots him and her heart nearly leaps from her ribcage. He's got a duffle bag slung over one shoulder and he's thumbing through his phone, clearly occupied, and suddenly Spencer cannot contain herself. She's waited far too long to see him and the mere feet between them feels like miles and miles. At the last second, as she's just reaching him, he glances up, and the immense surprise in his eyes renders the journey of hers completely worth it.

"Spencer!" He exclaims and takes her into his arms without a second thought, arms tightening around her frame as she throws hers around his neck, laughing. "I had no idea you were here! Why didn't you say anything?"

"I wanted to surprise you." She replies, ignoring the passing looks they're gaining from complete strangers. "I missed you so much and I didn't want to wait any longer to see you."

"But you were up early, you worked all day," Toby lists, shaking his head. "You should be sleeping."

"Hell no. I've done enough solo sleeping this past week." Spencer disagrees. "Plus, why would I let you take the tube home when I can pick you up from the airport in my car?"

"Touché," Toby chuckles and pulls back to kiss her. Her insides turn to mush and her heart skips a beat. This was, without a doubt, worth every lost second of sleep.

"So," She breathes, grinning, when they part. "You like your surprise, then?"

"Love it. And I love you," He replies sincerely, kissing her again. "I missed you. I'm glad to be home."

"Yeah, and I know it'll be short-lived, but we're glad to have you home." Spencer says, threading her fingers through his as they make their way towards baggage claim. "I seriously considered bringing Holden with me, but I thought the stuffy, cranky passengers would frown on that."

Toby laments, "You should have. I missed him, too. FaceTime wasn't good enough."

Spencer rolls her eyes. "You love him more than me."

He chuckles. "I could never love anyone more than you."

This, she knows, has always been true. It hasn't always been easy; in fact, it's _rarely_ ever been easy. The terrors she'd faced following her kidnapping and subsequent hospitalization had stayed with her longer than she'd anticipated. If she's honest, there are still nights when she wakes up screaming, she still has dreams that are plagued with electricity and bodies and pain, but they're not quite as often as they used to be. In the first few weeks following her release from the hospital, she'd spent countless nights with her bedroom door open and the light on, unable to surrender her mind to sleep no matter what she tried. Warm milk and long baths were futile, music and movies and books had been useless. After the third sleepless night, when she was about ready to pull out her hair and cry from exhaustion, she'd packed a bag and snuck out of the house, let herself into the loft with the emergency key (she'd not _once_ used it for an actual emergency) Toby had given her and crawled into bed with him. He hadn't said a word as she curled against him, but he'd pulled the arm she'd draped across his middle more firmly around him and had had a fresh cup of coffee awaiting her in the morning.

She'd then spent the rest of the summer alternately sneaking out of her house and sneaking Toby into it. She's pretty sure after about a week her mother had figured it out, but no one had ever said a thing.

The school hadn't wanted the girls to come back and, in retrospect, it hadn't made much sense for them to attend the last two weeks of class, but to Spencer, life wouldn't have returned to a sense of somewhat normalcy if she hadn't completed her high school coursework. She managed to catch up rather quickly (most likely because her teachers had been far too lenient on her; she supposes they were playing the sympathy card and she wasn't about to complain) and by some miracle, she still found herself towards the top of her class. She hadn't been crowned valedictorian, which, even though she was expecting as much, hurt her immensely anyway, but as class president, she still got to stand on that stage and give her speech, tell her story, and every single soul in that auditorium hung upon her every word. She was glad to leave Rosewood behind, to start anew, and best of all was that Toby was by her side, just as he'd promised he'd always be, every step of the way.

He kept his promise; the next time he went to London was at the end of that summer and he took her with him. She started undergrad in the fall because any college in America still seemed too close to Rosewood for her liking.

They tried- _really_ , they did- not to come back. After all, that had been her exact request when he'd returned to her all those years ago. But they soon found too many reasons to return. Melissa got engaged and then married halfway through Spencer's undergraduate career and they'd returned for the wedding, of course. Daniel Cavanaugh had gotten terribly, terribly ill the very next year and Toby had flocked to his side, desperate to save the only parent he had left despite the rough waters between them; thankfully, he'd made a full recovery, and Spencer had gently prodded Toby into attempting to clear the air. But mostly, they return to Rosewood once a year, on the anniversary of being freed from the bunker, to meet up with their friends, visit Alison's memorial, and continue the healing process. Spencer's sure that one day, they won't need these constant reminders of what they've been through. They'll be able to pass through the summer without thinking of the significance of Labor Day weekend, without remembering the beautiful blonde who'd passed before her time, without having to deal with the repercussions of the psychopath who'd stalked them for years and held them hostage underground.

But this year will mark five years since they'd been freed and Spencer knows they're not quite there yet.

They return to their flat, a cozy one bedroom in central London, a little after eleven, with Toby yawning on the regular but still listening intently as Spencer relays everything that he's missed in the week or so he's been gone. He hops out of the car the moment she shifts the gear into park and reaches around for the trunk, retrieving his luggage. "You know, I considered spending the night at the airport; checking my bag, finding our terminal, and just meeting you there tomorrow night."

She smirks, fiddling with the keys as they walk up the front step. "Where would you sleep? Those awful metal chairs?"

"Why not?" He shrugs. "No one would bother me."

"They'd probably think you were homeless."

He chuckles. "Probably not. Many people have slept in an airport terminal before. I can't be the only one."

"Our flight home isn't until seven p.m." Spencer points out. "What would you have done until then?"

"Well, Heathrow's huge." Toby shrugs. "I'm fairly certain I could've figured something out."

"I would say that it was poor planning on our part to have our flight home so soon after you got back," Spencer reasons, unlocking the front door. "But then again… We've had this booked for months and your boss is the one who made you go to Barcelona on such short notice, so…"

"Oh yeah, it's completely his fault." Toby nods. "I complained about it the entire time I was there."

"No you didn't. You've never struck me as much of a complainer."

"Yeah, well, I didn't say anything to his _face_. He's my boss. I can't talk to him like that."

"Never stopped you before." She grins cheekily, thinking of missing persons and of police badges, and Toby grins, too.

Their flat is dark and empty the moment they step into it and Spencer doesn't hesitate to turn on the hall light. She's still not so keen on the dark, even now. Toby, however, rolls his suitcase against the wall, tosses his jacket on top and then sighs complacently, pulling her closer to him and pressing a kiss to her temple. "Home sweet home."

"I'm glad you're back." Spencer replies and wonders if he realizes how genuinely she means that. She's been going slightly crazy without him. "Do you want to unpack first or shower or are you hungry? I can make you something; grilled cheese, perhaps?"

"While your grilled cheese _is_ pretty outstanding, I'm not very hungry." He smirks. "Just tired, really. I'm not going to unpack; I'll just stick some clean clothes in tomorrow and I'll be good."

She bites her lip. "You don't want to unpack? You've been gone for a week."

Laughing, he asks, "Do _you_ want to unpack?"

Shrugging, Spencer replies. "I just think it'll ease your mind if you do."

"It'll ease _your_ mind if I do." He says and she rolls her eyes despite the grin on her face. He kisses her again before nodding. "Mm. Yeah. This is what Emily was talking about."

"What do you mean?"

"She said we argue like an old married couple already." Toby says. "And I didn't know what she meant and she thought I was crazy for not seeing it. I see it now."

"Okay, we're not old." Spencer disagrees. "We're not married-"

"Yet." Toby interjects, eyeing the gorgeous engagement ring on her finger.

"And we don't argue that often. I mean, where she would even get that idea is just beyond…" Spencer trails off before chuckling. "I'm proving her point, aren't I?"

"A little bit, babe. A little bit." Toby replies and she beams. "Are you excited to tell them?"

"I'm excited to tell _everyone_." Spencer nods. "I know it was recent and it was great getting to keep it between us for a while, but this secret has been killing me. My mother will kill me when we tell her this happened a week ago and she wasn't the first to know."

"Honestly, you told Hanna." Toby shrugs. "I'm surprised the entire town doesn't already know."

"She beat it out of me!" Spencer laughs. "She's better at secrets than you think she is."

"Yeah, well, I guess you all are, aren't you?" Toby teases and Spencer pulls a face. "Olivia knows, too."

"Olivia watches Holden for us all the time." Spencer points out. "It would be pretty hard to hide a ring from her every other day."

"It's not that often," Toby reasons and then his eyes widen. "Holden! I haven't seen him yet. Where is he?"

"Sleeping in our room." Spencer says. "That's how I left him, anyway. We had dinner and then he passed out. His life's very difficult, you know."

"You left him alone?"

"Yes," She replies hesitantly. "But the look on your face is telling me I shouldn't have."

Following him down the hall and towards their bedroom, Spencer's expecting the room to be in shambles the moment Toby opens the door; at least, she's pretty sure this is what's going through _his_ mind, judging by the look on his face. But they see no such outcome; the moment Toby opens the bedroom door, they spot Holden, curled up into a ball of fluff on their bed, and Toby lets out a sigh of relief. "Oh good. He didn't destroy anything."

"But he's sleeping on the bed," Spencer points out. "Which is not okay and not where he was sleeping when I left."

"He misses us." Toby reasons and Spencer shakes her head as the pup stirs.

"He misses _you_."

Toby smirks, flipping the switch so the bedroom is doused with light, and as he does so, the puppy lifts his head, spots Toby and jumps to his feet, tail wagging. "Hey Holden! Long time; I missed you!"

He sinks onto the bed as Holden gives a yelp of excitement, crawling all over Toby and licking every inch of him. Spencer rolls her eyes. "I told you that you loved him more than me."

"That's ridiculous." Toby replies, chuckling as the puppy continues to climb onto his lap, unable to contain his excitement. "That's not even possible."

"Well, I know he loves _you_ more than me." Spencer says. "While you were gone, he'd fall asleep in his bed over there but I would always wake up, without fail, every morning to him sleeping in bed with me."

"See? He loves you." Toby states. "He wanted to snuggle with you, didn't he?"

"Not exactly. He was sleeping on your side of the bed because he missed you." Spencer recalls and then softens a bit. "And I let him. I didn't want to take that away from him because, hey, I missed you too."

"That's so sweet." Toby remarks and then adds, "But I guess you can't blame him. I _did_ save his life."

"Toby, you didn't save his life."

"I did! Who knows what would've happened to him if we hadn't taken him in?"

Spencer shakes her head. "I can't have this argument again."

"Because you know I'm right?"

"Go take a shower so we can go to sleep." She rolls her eyes as he smirks but obliges. "I'm going to get this munchkin back in his own bed."

"You know Spence," Toby calls from the bathroom teasingly. "Maybe he doesn't like you as much because he senses all your hostility. Dogs are pretty smart!"

"Yeah, yeah, you're funny." She replies and can hear his laughter echo off of the bathroom tile.

It had happened in the winter, on a cold blustery day in mid January, and the reason it had happened, Spencer's sure, is because she'd been in Bristol for a conference. It had been her first ever business trip and she'd been super nervous to be in a city she'd never been before away from her one true comfort here in England, but her excitement, for once, overpowered her nerves. As she sat down in their first meeting, her phone had buzzed in her pocket and, seeing as there were roughly a hundred or so people in the room, Spencer didn't think that it would be too much of a distraction if she took the message. It was from Toby; a photo of a golden retriever puppy, wet with snow, and with the caption, _This puppy has been outside our complex for the last three days. He's shivering and he cowers when I come near him. What do I do?_ Spencer had almost laughed; she'd never had a pet in her life- with the exception of her horses that never came home with her- and she didn't really know what to tell her boyfriend. _See if he has any ID tags and call the owner if he does_ , she'd replied and no less than ten seconds later, Toby had replied, _He doesn't have a collar. I'm going to leave him some food and water_. It had made her grin; her boyfriend was the most caring person she knew, after all. She'd sent back, _Take him to the shelter if he's still there tomorrow. They can take it from there._

And she thought that would be the end of it. It wasn't.

The next morning, as she'd prepared for the seminar that was first up on her schedule, Toby had texted her, _Good morning Spencer! I hope you have a great day. Love you!_ And her insides had melted, as they always do, at his sentiment, but then she'd asked the fateful question: _Thanks. I love you too! Puppy still there?_

 _No,_ Toby had replied, including a picture of the pup, curled up on the couch beside him. _He lives with us, now. Don't worry- I got supplies and I'm taking him to the vet later to get his shots. Shelter's overcrowded anyway._

Her eyes had nearly fallen out of their sockets. _Please tell me you're joking. We don't have time for a puppy._

 _I saved his life, Spencer!_

 _Toby! What the fuck?!_

 _I'll let you name him._

And that's how they'd ended up with Holden. Spencer glances at the puppy now, seeming a bit lost without his savior, and caves. "You are extremely lucky you're cute, you know that?"

He barks again, seeming to say, _why yes, it's why you kept me around, isn't it?_ Giving her hand one last lick, Holden hops down off the bed at her instruction and crawls into his own by the door, settling down for sleep. Spencer smirks and changes out of her jeans and t-shirt, pulling on an old shirt of Toby's instead, and crawling into bed. She remembers when they'd first moved here, when they'd first applied for citizenship, when they'd first looked at flats and decided on this one. She remembers the nervous excitement that came with signing their very first lease together, the trip to purchase furniture that had descended into a twenty-five minute argument about a couch, the moment they'd carried their bags and boxes up the stairs to their third story flat only to have Toby lose his grip on one of the bags and watch it careen to the ground below- the bag that, of course, held the lamp and light bulbs- and they'd laughed and laughed until their sides hurt over the broken glass and the unfortunate circumstance.

And she remembers christening every inch of this place the moment it was officially theirs. She remembers that very, _very_ well.

He joins her in bed a moment later and must sense where her mind is, because he groans, "Spencer, I'm _so_ tired."

"I didn't say anything!"

"Your eyes did."

"Why do you know me so well?" She whines, covering her eyes with her hands, and he chuckles, pulling them away. "Get some rest. We have another long day of travel ahead of us tomorrow."

"Ugh. Don't remind me. I thought you wanted me to promise to never take you back to Rosewood?"

"Yeah, and some day, that just might be reality."

He smirks and pulls her closer to him, but she can't quite seem to settle down. Toby's breathing begins to even out, his limbs slacken, and soon, he's fast asleep. Spencer wishes she could say the same. She hadn't had a single issue falling asleep while he'd been gone (except for the fact that, as always, it took twice as long without him) but now that he's back, she's struck with a sudden case of insomnia? It doesn't seem right to her and she frowns in irritation.

She lifts her head off of her pillow, glances at the bedroom door, and _knows_.

Carefully, she peels herself from Toby's grasp and steps out of bed, grateful for his exhaustion, for he doesn't stir. Holden lifts his head and glances sleepily at her from his bed on the floor, but she puts a finger to her lips to keep him silent and he obeys, tucking back into himself. She can hear it now with every step she takes toward the closed bedroom door. _Choose one or all will suffer. Ten, nine, eight. Commence punishment. Welcome. Please follow the lighted pathway. Commence reward_. It still hits her- more often than she would like to admit. Her hand closes over the door handle and she holds her breath even though she knows the outcome; it's habit, now. For some reason, she smells death and blood and damp earth as the handle twists and gives way in her hand.

She turns and crawls back into bed, Toby's arm once again draped around her middle, and sleep suddenly comes easy.

She leaves the door open, though. Just in case.

* * *

A clap of thunder echoes through the clouds outside their window and Toby awakens with a jolt.

It isn't the weather that's roused him from a peaceful sleep, however; there's movement from the bed and when he reaches out for her, his hand comes back empty and he has the sudden, urgent feeling that he's all alone.

He finds her quickly. She's sitting at the edge of the bed, slipping on shoes and whispering quietly to Holden, who's yelping excitedly at her feet. She chuckles, shushes him, and pets him affectionately and it brings a sappy grin to Toby's face. She can pretend she doesn't like the dog all she wants; he knows the truth. Groggily, he sits and rubs his eyes and his sudden movement calls her attention to his sleepy form. "Where are you going? Are you okay? What's going on?"

"Shh, go back to sleep." Spencer replies softly, coming to sit beside him and kissing him quickly before gently pushing him back against the pillow. "It's early. I have an appointment with Dr. Higdon. Everything's okay."

"Sorry, you worried me, that's all." Toby yawns, watching as she pulls on a coat and reaches for the umbrella hanging from their closet. "Usually, when you can't sleep…"

"You worry too much; I slept wonderfully." Spencer tells him, shooting him a reassuring smile over her shoulder. "It's Thursday; it's just my routine appointment."

Toby nods. "Things still going well?"

"Yep," She confirms. "If it's not pouring later, do you want to go to lunch in Covent Garden? We haven't been on a date in… A week? A week and a half?"

"Not since the night we got engaged, yeah." Toby replies. "Yeah. That sounds great."

"Okay," She grins and leans down to kiss him again. "Go back to sleep. I'll be back in an hour or so. Maybe a little later; I'm definitely going to stop at Pret for coffee."

Toby yawns again, closing his eyes. "You and your damn coffee."

Spencer chuckles. "Hey, it's better here than it is in America!"

She ruffles Holden's scruff one last time before heading out the door and then the flat is bathed in silence. It doesn't take the puppy long to realize she's gone and to hop onto the bed with Toby and it doesn't take Toby long to fall back into unconsciousness, as the rain continues to fall outside his window, the soft pitter patter lulling him to sleep. He dreams, these days, of happy endings, even though they're halfway towards the one he'd promised her all those years ago. He dreams of European travels and sipping wine on terraces and swinging in hammocks on the beach. He dreams of spending every last waking second of his life with her, of marrying and having beautiful children with her, of building a sturdy house somewhere in the French countryside for his beloved and their family and growing old there together. It's not always like this; he's still plagued by the nightmares, too. Sometimes he dreams he never found her and he has to spend the rest of his days sunken in loneliness and despair. Sometimes he dreams he found her, but it was too late and then, he has to bury her. From these dreams, he wakes crying, and Spencer usually wakes too, holding him, kissing him, crying with him.

They'd both endured immeasurable pain. They'd both suffered immensely. But they'd both persevered and they're both healing, together, one step at a time.

Hours later, when the rain clears and Toby awakens a second time, he pushes back the covers and heads over to the dresser, pulling clothes on a bit drowsily and haphazardly making the bed. He starts a load of laundry from the open suitcase of his in the living room while he eats breakfast and feeds the dog, then switches it over to the dryer and takes Holden out for a walk, desperate for fresh air before he has to sit on a seven-hour flight back to America this evening. They haven't been back to Rosewood since this time last year, the anniversary of their freedom calling them back each year, and frankly, in Toby's mind, it's been incredible. Spencer's been working a _ton_ and when she isn't, she's studying because not only does she have a full-time job, but she's halfway to her master's degree as well. She impresses the hell out of him; honestly, he's not sure how she does it. But he wonders if, someday, they won't ever need to make the journey back to Rosewood. He wonders if there will ever be a time when they feel like they've healed enough to never bring it up again.

Things had been tense in the weeks following Spencer's homecoming. She'd gone back to school despite everyone telling her not to and it only added to her mounting stress and, subsequently, his. He'd watched her fall apart numerous times with agonizing, gut-wrenching anxiety attacks, suffering from incessant, horrific nightmares, and struggling with her newfound inability to be alone, no matter how small the timeframe. He'd watched her parents lose their patience with her time and time again and he'd tossed and turned night after night, wondering if she was sleeping, if she was eating, if she was _surviving_. It was around this time that she started sneaking out, seeking solace only in him, and he was all too willing to give it to her if it was what she needed. She slept mostly soundlessly whenever she was with him and perhaps her parents had realized this and that's why they'd never commented. He never found out. He's sure he never will.

He'd accompanied her once or twice to therapy with Dr. Sullivan, but mostly she'd wanted to go alone and that's how he preferred it, anyway. He wanted her to have every opportunity to speak her mind, to relay her horrors, to begin to heal, and he was never sure if she could fully express everything she wanted if he was in the room. But he'd sat in the front row at graduation and he'd accepted a job in London merely days after she'd told him she'd be attending undergrad there, because he could see the mounting separation anxiety in her eyes and it was about time he made good on that promise, anyway. The tension had left her shoulders the moment her belongings were packed away and they ascended into the big blue sky towards their brand new home. Things weren't always easy in London, either; their trauma caught up to them, the nightmares still found their way into her subconscious, and there was a constant, pressing reminder that even though they'd traveled all the way to Europe, their journey as a healing couple was far from over.

But they'd already gotten through the most difficult part of all and Toby has no other plans but to keep going.

Things weren't always easy in London; it's true. But they've had some really, really good times. Spencer hadn't stopped buzzing with excitement the entire plane ride, first about how eager she was to start over with him by her side, then how appreciative and thankful she was to simply _have_ him by her side through all of this, and then about all the things she couldn't wait to see and do once they were there. From there, they spent months and months getting to know the ins and outs of the city, memorizing it like they were natives of the land, and, slowly, they healed. In her junior year, things got tough, tougher than they'd ever been, and Spencer had been stressed and drowning in schoolwork and desperate for an escape again, for a much-needed break. The trip to Paris had been his idea and he'd cursed himself for not thinking of it sooner. They'd always dreamt of going, before, back when they were high school students learning the romantic language and fantasizing about what the country must be like. He'd embarrassed himself with his very basic knowledge of the language and she'd danced circles around him to no one's surprise. Their hotel room had a spectacular view of the city, the Eiffel Tower sparkled long into the night, and they returned from France refreshed and satisfied and wholly, utterly, completely happy.

It was on that trip, the first of many, he hoped, that Toby had decided he couldn't wait any longer. He'd wanted to marry her for a while now, but those lustful summer nights in Paris had increased his desire to ask tenfold.

He returns to their apartment a little after eleven and finds Spencer's already home. Holden tugs a bit more firmly on his leash as they grow closer and it makes Toby chuckle. No matter what Spencer says, he knows this crazy dog of theirs loves both of his parents equally. He pushes open their front door to find Spencer tossing a few items into a duffle bag, which she eventually zips and tosses at her feet. "Holden's packed up and we can drop him off with Olivia on our way to lunch."

"Sounds good," Toby nods. "How was therapy?"

"Great. Got a lot off my chest." Spencer nods. "How was your walk?"

"Good. We made it all the way to Westminster today." Toby tells her as Holden scampers off to his water bowl and lowers his head to drink. "It's a bit muggy now, but at least the rained cleared."

"Yeah," Spencer nods. "Did you go back to sleep when I left?"

"Yeah, why?"

"So you're rested, then?" She asks, a mischievous look in her eye- one he knows all too well. "And we can stop this nonsense small talk that no one cares about."

Toby chuckles but steps closer, his heart already pounding, his hands at her waist. " _I_ care. Therapy's good for you and I'm glad you're still going. I really do want to know how it went."

"I appreciate that," Spencer replies, snaking her arms around his neck. "But I can think of better medicine."

"Hmm," Toby teases. "Laughter?"

She shakes her head, her irises darken, and suddenly his insides turn to goo. "I really, really hope you won't be laughing."

She kisses him at once and his hands act on their own accord, lifting her into his arms as he walks them back towards their bedroom. He certainly, definitely, does not laugh.

Instead, he tosses her on the bed and reaches for his shirt, removing it with ease as she crawls forward, kissing down his stomach, her fingers working dexterously on the button and zipper of his jeans. She frees him and leans back to pull her own shirt over her head as he kicks the pants aside, crawling on top of her. Her eyes alight with a special fire he's only seen under these circumstances and it still amazes him to this day that he can still bring this out in her, that she still desires him just as badly as she had from day one. She shimmies out of her pants, pushes them off of the bed and then pulls him down so he's flush against her, bare skin on skin, erotic in a way he could never hope to describe in words. They kiss feverishly for a few moments before she rolls them over, presses a searing kiss to his lips and connects their already intertwined, entangled bodies. It's achingly tender and fervently heated, like always, and Toby can never get enough of her.

They spend the rest of the afternoon alternately cuddling and making out and having sex on repeat and by the time they reluctantly leave their love nest to ready themselves for their flight, their stomachs growl in sync and they realize they forgot all about their lunch date in Covent Garden. At this, Spencer looks utterly disappointed; they had, ever since moving away from Rosewood, been trying to make dates a more prevalent part of their relationship seeing as they were denied this basic right when they were teenagers, too busy trying to escape a sure death at every corner. Toby knows she doesn't regret a single thing they did that afternoon- there just simply hadn't been enough time for everything- but he still wracks his brain trying to clear the displeasure in her eyes. Finally, he promises, "We'll have plenty of chances for date nights in Rosewood. Buccoli's awaits us, remember?"

"Yeah," She frowns. "But what about today?"

"Well…" Toby trails off before shooting her a wry grin. "How about we stop for burritos on our way to the airport?"

"Burritos?" She smirks and that disappointment is gone in an instant. "You must think I'm a cheap date."

"You are." Toby teases and she grins. "That's what's so great about you."

She laughs and they head out, dropping Holden off at their neighbor's flat and stopping for sandwiches, not burritos, on the way to the airport. Security, of course, takes years and they end up going to the wrong terminal at first, but eventually, they find their way to the gate and settle in for the long evening ahead. He's not going to lie; he's feeling just the tiniest bit apprehensive about returning to the town of their nightmares, despite the fact that neither of them would be here together if they hadn't lived there first. He hates the town and everything it stands for, everything it had gotten away with, everything it had put the love of his life through and he isn't exactly eager to return. He's afraid of what it'll do to her; each time they set foot in that town, Spencer turns into the withdrawn, anxiety-ridden, paranoid being she had been when she left it and he hurts for her, every time. The gate agent calls for boarding and Spencer stands, eyeing him strangely as he remains still, but he shakes his head, gathers his things and follows her. He doesn't need to burden her with his stress over returning home. He knows she'll just say he worries too much.

He spends most of the flight being incredibly uncomfortable. The middle seat is never his seat of choice; Spencer's in the one by the window, watching the sunset as they ascend into the clouds, and there's a stranger on his right side, in the aisle. He doesn't know which armrest is his and the person in front of him pushes their seat back the moment they reach ten thousand feet and Toby loses all of his legroom. Spencer chuckles and offers to switch seats with him, but the window seat makes him claustrophobic, so he merely shakes his head and settles in for the longest plane ride of his life. They spend most of the flight talking, as quietly as they can because the rest of the cabin is asleep, but when the pilot turns off all overhead lighting and evening turns to night, it's soon clear that they, too, should turn in for rest. Spencer pushes up the armrest separating their seats and snuggles against him and he wraps his arm around her, pulling her as close as he can. She falls asleep easily and he envies her for that; he's never been good on planes and he certainly can't sleep on them. He kisses her crown, leans back against his seat and settles in for the long haul.

The next thing he knows, the pilot turns on the overhead lighting and the flight attendants are combing the aisles, checking seatbelts and tray tables. They're making their final descent into Philadelphia.

Spencer stirs beside him and stretches, yawning a bit before settling back into his side, watching as the streets and lights of Pennsylvania grow closer and closer as they touch the ground safely. Toby doesn't remember falling asleep- he has zero recollection of it, actually- but he stands and stretches when they're able, gathering his things, shaking feeling into his tingling limbs. They'd gotten in forty-five minutes early- the benefit of an overnight flight, he supposes- but Philadelphia is five hours behind London and so it's almost as if they've traveled back in time and it's only a little after eight p.m. Peter Hastings is waiting for them at baggage claim and he looks much grayer, much more worn, than he had the last time they'd been home, but the hug he gives Spencer and the handshake he offers Toby are still just as strong as they've always been. The drive back to Rosewood is quiet; Toby's honestly ready to go back to sleep, but Peter mentions Melissa and her husband, Curtis, are coming over for drinks and to see them and he knows they won't be lucky enough to escape.

He watches the tension he'd spent all afternoon relieving start to creep its way back into her shoulders. They pass familiar places- the Edgewood Motor Court, the church, City Hall- and it grows and grows and this right here is the reason. This is the very reason why he hates coming back here.

"You're here! We've been waiting." Veronica greets them the moment they step through the front door. She embraces Spencer quickly before pulling back to look her up and down. "You're so skinny. Are you eating enough? You look exhausted; are you tired? Jet lag, right?"

"I'm an adult, mother." Spencer rolls her eyes. "I can take care of myself."

"Well, hello you to too." Veronica shakes her head and embraces Toby next. "How are you, sweetheart? Still keeping busy? We heard all about your promotion, Mr. Project Manager. Congratulations, honey. You deserve it."

"Thank you." Toby nods. "It was a bit of a shock. There are plenty of people on my team who deserved it way more than I did."

"Oh, I doubt that." Veronica shakes her head. "Peter, you got their things out of the car, right? Just leave them in the barn."

Peter sighs and turns back outside. "Yes, dear."

"Well, come in, come in." Veronica ushers them into the living room, where she's uncorked a bottle of wine and set out a tray of appetizers fit to feed a village. "I'm sure you're both exhausted but I want to hear all about London and all about you. What's new? You'll have to fill me in."

"Honestly, not much." Spencer shrugs, collapsing onto the couch as Toby takes a seat beside her. "We've been swamped with work and school. We haven't really had much time for anything else."

"And Holden keeps us pretty busy," Toby adds. "I didn't think he'd be as much work as he is. I mean, it's fun work, but still."

"Holden?" Veronica asks, pouring them each a glass of wine, and Spencer nods.

"Yeah. Mom, I told you we adopted a puppy."

"You did not." Veronica shakes her head. "A _puppy?_ You adopted a puppy?"

"Yeah, I have a picture. Hold on," Toby adds and Spencer smirks.

"Mom, it's not a big deal." She shrugs. "I could've sworn I told you last time you called."

"That was months ago!"

"And whose fault is that? The phone works both ways."

"International rates are killer and you know it." Veronica replies, shaking her head. "This is why you need to visit more than, oh I don't know, once a year."

At this, Peter enters the room, frowning. "Oh, not this argument again."

"Peter," Veronica sighs. "They adopted a puppy."

"Good for you guys." Peter nods and pours himself a glass of wine. Toby stifles a chuckle.

"Well, _sure_ it's good," Veronica says. "But some people would prefer human babies. I'd like a grandchild someday, you know."

"Veronica, they're _young_."

"They are, I'm not."

"Both of you need to relax." Spencer says and Toby's not sure what's going on anymore. "Is Melissa coming? We kind of have an announcement but I don't want her to miss it."

"She should be here shortly," Peter confirms. "I spoke to them before I left for the airport. It's a long commute from the city, but she says she's excited to see you."

Spencer nods. "Yeah, me too. It's been a while."

"Toby, will you be making a visit to see your family as well?" Peter then asks and Veronica swats at him.

"Peter, you know they don't get along." She frowns disapprovingly. "Besides, these two have been together for so long, _we're_ his family, now."

Peter shoots her a look. "Let the man answer, for Christ's sake!"

"Yeah," Toby replies warily, glancing between his soon-to-be in-laws and then at Spencer, who doesn't seem the least bit fazed by her parents' behavior. He wonders if this is how it's been her entire life. "Yeah, we're supposed to have lunch with him tomorrow, I think. But he'll probably cancel; he always gets conveniently busy whenever we're in town."

"I don't think he likes me." Spencer says and Toby shakes his head.

"Spence, I really don't think it's you."

"It's _not_ you. Daniel Cavanaugh has been a thorn in Rosewood's side since day one." Peter announces and though Spencer's eyes are suddenly wide and mortified, Toby finds this, actually, a bit hilarious. "Toby, did I ever tell you about the time I went to court with your father? Some prick from Brookhaven sued him and he hired me-"

"Dad," Spencer interjects. "I don't really think this is something any of us need to hear."

"It's his father!" Peter remarks and turns to Toby. "I never told you this story, did I?"

"No." Toby replies, but he already knows the ending. He'd been ten years old at the time and something- he can't quite remember, now- that was manufactured by the company his father owned had malfunctioned, injuring its customer. He sued, Peter took on the case and lost; Daniel had been forced to pay almost two hundred thousand dollars in settlement. Marion had already been in a bad place and Daniel had taken out his frustration on her- Toby had witnessed the whole thing.

In the middle of hearing this story from Peter's perspective, the doorbell rings and Spencer leaps to her feet. "Melissa's here. I'll get the door. Toby, you want to come with me?"

"Yes." The reply is out of his mouth before he can breathe and Peter is left to tell the remainder of the story to his wife, who scowls with every word he says.

Melissa crushes Spencer in a bear hug that seems much too dramatic and heartfelt for the sisters' relationship, but Toby doesn't question it. She hugs him, too, and he's certain now, more than ever, that there's a first time for everything. Curtis steps over the threshold of the home and collects Spencer in an embrace as well, kissing her cheek as they part in that way Toby knows she absolutely loathes. Neither of them is really the biggest fan of Melissa's husband; upon meeting him for the first time during a double date they'd taken way back when, Spencer had left the restaurant, bursting with the need to complain, and had proclaimed Curtis as a "pretentious, grade-A douche canoe." It had made Toby laugh for about five straight minutes, but he hadn't disagreed. He has all of the pompousness and the smarmy attitude of Wren Kingston, but absolutely none of the charm.

To this day, Toby secretly believes Veronica agrees with them, but she's never said a word.

"… but St. Paul's Cathedral definitely gives you the best view of the city, isn't that right, Spencer?" Melissa asks, nudging her sister's side. "The London Eye is a tourist trap and if you're willing to climb the hundred or so steps to get to the top…"

She'd spent a year at the most living abroad and yet, she always speaks about London as if she and the city are in on some inside joke. Toby can tell Spencer is about _this close_ to exploding, so he murmurs, "Let's tell them now. Everyone's here, right?"

Nodding, Spencer interrupts her sister's rambling about Hyde Park versus Green Park to say, "Okay, I'm actually glad you're all finally here in one place because Toby and I have an announcement we need to make."

"For the record," Peter states before Spencer can finish. "I fully support your decision to adopt a puppy. I don't know what your mother's problem is; we had a cat in the first apartment we ever lived in."

"It was an awful, smelly thing." Veronica shakes her head. "It tracked litter all over the floor and tore a hole in the carpet! We never did get that security deposit back."

"You got a puppy?" Melissa smiles. "How cute! It's interesting you'd get one now, of all times. If it were me, _I_ wouldn't have wanted to add more responsibility to my plate when I'm already juggling school and a full-time job, but for you, Spencer, that's… _good_. That's really good."

"Wow, okay, thanks. Not what I was getting at." Spencer exhales and Toby places a hand on her knee, keeping her calm. "This isn't about the dog."

"It isn't?"

"No," She smirks and takes the hand he's recently settled on her knee, threading her fingers through his. Warmth floods his veins and suddenly, neither of them can stop smiling. "Toby and I are engaged. We're getting married."

"I knew it," Melissa beams. "I knew there was something different about you!"

"You're _engaged?_ " Veronica exclaims and reaches for Spencer's other hand to inspect the ring. "You've been here for thirty minutes and I didn't even notice!"

"Congratulations," Curtis offers. "Marriage truly is a special time. What a joyous occasion for you both."

"Toby, I always knew you'd be the one to make an honest woman out of her." Peter grins, clapping him on the back, and Toby has never felt more awkward. Well, that's not true; he colors thinking of that time in his loft, many years ago, and shakes his head. "Congratulations! This calls for something more than wine, don't you think? Let me see what I have in my archives…"

He disappears into the dining room as Melissa asks, "How long? Was this recent?"

"Yeah, kind of." Spencer nods. "I mean, it was about a week and a half ago. We were-"

"A week and a half?" Veronica interjects. "You've been engaged for that long and you didn't even tell me?"

"Well, we didn't tell anyone." Spencer shrugs. "We wanted it to be a surprise, so-"

"How did you do it?" Melissa asks Toby next, who grins merely at the memory.

"We went out to dinner at our favorite restaurant," He begins, Spencer beaming from beside him. "And then for a walk through Kensington Gardens. When we got home, I asked if she wanted to play Scrabble-"

"And I never back down from a challenge." Spencer adds and Toby chuckles, nodding in agreement.

"No, you do not. So she went to change and I got the game board set up-"

"Wait, so you got engaged," Veronica repeats as if she simply cannot wrap her mind around the fact. "And I wasn't your first call?"

"Mom, I'm sorry." Spencer pleads. "We just really wanted it to be between us for a while. No one knew; it's not like I was keeping it just from you. I wouldn't do that."

"Well… I suppose that's alright." She sighs but then smiles a little, asking, "Have you set a date?"

"No, it happened literally last week."

"Are you going to get married here or in London?"

"We were thinking a small ceremony in the park, but-"

"Small? No, we don't do small." Veronica shakes her head and then crosses the room to engulf the couple in her arms. "I can't believe you're getting _married!_ "

"I knew I still had a bottle of champagne back there!" Peter reenters the room, grinning, with a champagne bottle and six glasses. He begins to pour and passes them around the room, saying, "This kind of thing calls for some Dom, don't you think?"

"Thanks, Dad," Spencer replies and passes a flute of champagne to Toby and takes one for herself.

"I'd like to propose a toast," Peter clears his throat. "To Toby and Spencer- it has been-"

"Oh, no thank you," Melissa says as Spencer attempts to pass her a share of champagne as well. "I won't be drinking anything harder than club soda for a _long_ time."

All the air deflates from Toby's lungs and he watches as the blissful smile fades from Spencer's face. "You what?"

"Well, since we're all here, it's as good a time as any." Melissa beams excitedly, taking Curtis's hand in her own. "We're pregnant. Curtis and I are expecting a little one in December!"

The room erupts into chaos, with both Peter and Veronica shouting about how thrilled they are and drowning out each other's voices, and it's all anyone can talk about for the rest of the evening.

Including Spencer.

"She has got some _fucking_ nerve." She hisses, spitting toothpaste into the sink. They'd escaped to the barn about twenty minutes ago and no one had even noticed they'd gone. "I mean, _of course_ she did that. Of course she did! It's all she's ever done my entire fucking life."

"It's not fair." Toby shakes his head, pulling back the sheets on the bed and climbing in, rubbing his eyes. "It's not fair to you to have to constantly compete with her."

"Oh of course it's not fair, but what the hell does she care?" Spencer replies, turning off the light in the adjacent bathroom and joining him in bed, exhaling heavily. "She couldn't stand the fifteen seconds where she wasn't the center of attention, so god forbid, she needed to do something to fix that."

"She's so much older than you," Toby yawns as they lie down and settle themselves beneath the sheets. "You'd think she'd be a little more mature."

"You'd _think_ that, but you'd be wrong." Spencer sighs. "She still thinks we're kids and we have to fight for Mommy and Daddy's love and approval. I get an A, she gets an A plus. I come in second, she comes in first. I'm seconds away from winning the state championship in tennis and Melissa mysteriously contracts a case of appendicitis so they have to take her to the hospital and miss the rest of my game, even though nurses and doctors alike prove there's nothing wrong with her within seconds of her being there."

Toby's eyes widen. "That didn't really happen."

"Sixth grade." Spencer confirms and she must catch the look in his eyes, because she adds, "It's fine. It was years ago."

It's precisely the opposite of fine, but he doesn't know what to say. Finally, he asks, "Did you win? The state championship, I mean?"

"Sure did." She grins. "I channeled my anger and frustration into my backhand and I almost hit my opponent, but she was fine. And I won."

"That's my girl." Toby states proudly and she laughs. "We'll tell our friends tomorrow and they'll have a much better reaction, I'm sure."

"Yeah, I think you're right." Spencer nods and snuggles further into him. "I've always felt closer to them, anyway."

The wind whistles outside the barn window and a cool draft slips through the crack beneath the door, setting goose bumps across his skin. He pulls Spencer closer, wraps the threadbare comforter more tightly around them both, and only then notices how very uneasy, very tense, she is. "Everything alright?"

"I don't know." She whispers and her voice has gone eerily hollow. "I always kind of wanted to live out here. I fixed it up and I was so pissed when Melissa and Wren got it instead. But now… This is where it all happened, Toby. This is where it all started."

Realization dawns upon him and he frowns, pressing a kiss to her crown. And he's heard the story a thousand times- a simple sleepover that had turned into a nightmare, the drinking and laughing like any other group of teenage girls would do on summer vacation, awakening to find their world had been forever changed- but it doesn't mean he understands what she's going through. He knows she can no longer go near her old bedroom- too many horrific memories of the weeks she'd been tortured in an exact replica of the space. But why should the barn be any different? After all, this is the very last place she had ever seen Alison alive. She must be thinking the very same thing, for she shivers in his arms and he wracks his brain trying to think of some way to make this easier, to fix this, to take away the years upon years worth of pain and suffering that just being here has resurfaced in her mind.

"We can go somewhere else." He offers and she glances up, her eyes glistening in the moonlight. "We don't have to stay here. I want you to be able to sleep and I'm pretty sure your parents will understand."

"Can we…" She trails off, as if she's too embarrassed to make her next request. "Can we just leave the light on?"

"Of course." He nods, cupping her cheek, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, and then stepping out of bed to honor her request. Instantly, that hollow look in her eyes vanishes and when he returns to her, she curls her body around his, at peace. "Whatever you need."

"I'm sorry." She whispers anyway. "I didn't think it would get to me like this."

"You have nothing to be sorry for." He assures her. "You've made leaps and bounds in these five years, but you're still healing. It's going to take time."

"How much?" She then asks, her tone impatient. "Because I'm sick and tired of being a fucking basket case."

"You're not even close to being a basket case." Toby tells her and when she scoffs in disbelief, he insists, "You're not. You're strong and you're fierce and your resilience has always astounded me. There hasn't been anything, yet, that you haven't been able to bounce back from. Do you know how incredible that is to witness? Do you know how incredible _you_ are?"

Spencer sighs and laces their fingers, admitting, "I just want to forget."

"I know you do. I know." Toby frowns. "And maybe you will, someday. Maybe you won't. But I'll still be just as amazed with you if you don't. I'll still love you just as much even if you need to sleep with the door open and the light on for the rest of our lives. Nothing's going to change that; nothing ever could."

Quietly, she says, "Thank you."

"Of course. I'm not ever going to expect your healing process to be at a certain point, regardless of how much time has passed." Toby promises her and kisses her shoulder, lingering a moment. "You shouldn't, either."

"This is how you got me, you know." Spencer replies a moment later, pulling his arm more firmly around her waist. "You care about me more than anyone ever has in my life and you say all of these wonderful things that make me believe I'm not a horrible person."

"You aren't," Toby contends. "You're, without a doubt, my favorite person on this planet, but you already know that. You're the greatest person I know."

"I don't see how that's possible." She smirks. "But thank you for saying that. I love you so much."

"I love _you_ so much." Toby says. "That's how you got _me_ , you know. You gave me the time of day, believed in me, pulled me out of despair. You loved me when no one else did and more than anyone ever could."

"Still do," She yawns and he grins. "And don't you forget it."

Toby kisses every inch of her he can reach. He doesn't see how he ever could.

* * *

"Oh my god, _you're here!_ God, I could just _scream!_ "

"Maybe don't, though, because we're in a public place."

"Don't tell me what to do! Tell _them_ they need to move back to America so we can see them more than twice a year."

"Well guys, the wife does have a point."

"I know, I'm sorry. It's the hardest being away from you guys."

"And us too, right? Or are we just chopped liver compared to the newlyweds?"

"Of course you too!"

"Ugh, Aria, you promised you'd stop calling us that."

"Yeah, it's been ten months. Ten _long_ months."

"Caleb, I swear to god-"

"Kidding, dear."

"Wait, wait, wait, what is _that_ on your finger?"

"She's got hardware! It's an ice skating rink!"

"An ice skating rink? Em, it's a fucking _continent!_ "

"So much for making your grand announcement, huh Spence?"

"You guys, I had a speech prepared and everything!"

"Save it for the rehearsal dinner. We all know how much you love us and how much you love Toby."

"Congratulations, Spence! You too, Toby! I can't believe it!"

"You can't believe it? These two were attached at the hip since day one!"

"True, but-"

"True? That makes us sound codependent, thank you very much."

"I didn't mean it like that. What I was trying to say was-"

"Wait, you're going to get married in America, right? Don't tell me I have to plan your wedding thousands of miles away from-"

"Whoa, who said you got to plan it? It's _my_ wedding."

"Han, you planned your own wedding. Let Spencer have hers."

"Yeah, but she doesn't know the difference between tulle and organza."

"Thank you, but after sitting through hours of dress shopping with _you_ , I actually do."

"What the hell are they talking about?" Caleb asks and Toby chuckles, shaking his head.

"I have no idea." He smirks. "But it's good to be back."

Spencer beams at her fiancé, suddenly unable to contain her joy, and agrees wholeheartedly with his sentiment. They're sitting at a table in the back of the Apple Rose Grille, conversing animatedly like no time has passed between them. It makes Spencer's heart feel so incredibly full. Emily then asks, "Wait, so when did it happen? _How_ did it happen? Give me the details! I'm _so_ excited for the two of you!"

"Me too!" Aria exclaims. "Although, it's recent, right? Toby, tell me you didn't propose in Rosewood. This place is creepy and not at all romantic."

Toby chuckles. "I would have to agree with that. No, I didn't do it in Rosewood. It was about a week and a half ago-"

"A week and a half?" Emily exclaims, turning on both of her best friends. "You've been engaged _that_ long and you haven't told any of us?"

"Hanna knew." Caleb says and Hanna's eyes widen. "Okay, so did I because she told me, but that's not the point."

"Can I just say that I knew from day one and I told _no one_?" Hanna remarks. "I mean, aren't you proud of me? You're always saying I can't keep a secret worth a damn and that I have a big mouth, but look- it's been a week and a half since it happened and I didn't tell a soul."

"What are you talking about?" Spencer chuckles. "You told Caleb!"

"Well, yeah, but he's my husband." She shrugs. "He doesn't really count. You can't have secrets in a marriage; you'll learn that soon enough."

Spencer rolls her eyes but Aria shakes her head. "Wait, before you guys get into the semantics, how the hell did Hanna know before everyone else?"

"It was an accident." Spencer replies. "I didn't take the ring off before FaceTiming with her and she's a bloodhound. She beat it out of me."

"But she swore me to secrecy," Hanna says. "And I held up my end of the bargain."

"Except for me." Caleb chimes in. "But we've already established I don't count."

They share a bit of laughter before Emily asks, "So? How did it happen? Come on, don't leave me hanging."

"Okay, well, we went to dinner at one of our favorite little restaurants in the city and then went for a walk in Kensington Gardens, which is across the street from our flat. And when we got home, we were going to play Scrabble…" Spencer starts, but trails off, glancing at the love and adoration in Toby's eyes. "You tell it. You did it."

"Really?" He softens a bit. "But you tell it so well."

She suggests, "Together?"

"Okay," He chuckles. "So she went to change and I was getting the game board set up, but instead of leaving it blank, I started taking the tiles and making words that showcased different aspects of our relationship."

"That's so cute." Emily squeals and Hanna nods her agreement.

"And such a creative way to spice up that super boring game."

"Hey," Spencer remarks. "It's not boring at all, thank you. So I came out of the bathroom ready to fight him because he never lets me have first word- and I'm _convinced_ that's how he wins every time-"

"That, or I'm just better at it than you are." Toby replies and she shakes her head.

"Probably not. It's luck." She says and he laughs. "So I look at the game board and I'm like, what the hell is going on? But then I actually read the words and I was losing my shit a little, I'm not going to lie. It was this beautiful walk down memory lane and he had gotten so creative with the letter placements and it honestly would've been enough."

"But then I turned the tiles over so they were blank," Toby continues. "Not all of them; I left a few facing upward so that she could read the message I was spelling out."

"I thought he was just picking and choosing at random." Spencer recalls. "But a few tiles later, when I read, 'Will you,' I got the message. When he got to the end, he pulled the little drawer out from underneath the board- you know, where you store the tiles- and it was empty, except for the ring. And I lost it."

"She said yes." Toby grins at the memory. "And we never did end up playing the game."

"We were a bit, um, _occupied_." Spencer agrees and the two share a quick kiss, unable to stop themselves.

"That is the _cutest_ thing I have heard all week." Emily shakes her head. "Oh my god. My best friends are getting married! I can't wait!"

"I am so jealous," Hanna shakes her head. "When _this one_ proposed, he did that cheesy restaurant thing where the ring came in the glass of champagne."

"Thanks, man." Caleb nods towards Toby, who smirks in response. " _Really_ making me look good over here."

"Sorry," Toby shrugs. "Not at all my intention."

"No, it was fine. It was great, actually." Hanna assures him. "It just wasn't the epitome of romance like that was."

"Well, now you're stuck with me for life, so that just sucks for you, doesn't it?"

Again, the table erupts in laughter and Spencer asks, "How _is_ married life treating you, anyway?"

"Yeah," Toby wants to know. "Any tips for the newly betrothed?"

"Learn how to say 'yes, dear'." Caleb says. "You're going to be saying that a lot."

"Oh my god."

"I'm _kidding_ , Han." Caleb shakes his head. "No, it's been great so far. We got way too tan on the honeymoon and I couldn't get into work-"

"His office uses facial recognition," Hanna laughs, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. "And the infrared didn't know what to do; it couldn't pick up his tan so he couldn't get into his own building!"

"That's hilarious," Emily says. "Is Fiji as magical as it sounds?"

"Um, more, I'd say." Hanna replies. "The water is _so_ blue and the sands are soft and white and everyone was so welcoming. We got massages on the beach and ate every single meal on our balcony, listening to the waves, and we had _so_ much sex-"

"Okay." Aria nods. "You could've left that part out."

"It was their honeymoon." Spencer smirks. "What did you expect?"

"Ugh, why am I not there right now?" Hanna groans and then turns to Aria, accusatorily. "Hey, just because _you_ don't have anyone to climb into your sheets-"

"Stay out of it," Aria frowns. "And not that it's any of your business, but I have plenty of bedroom action."

"Oh really? You and Jason are back together?" Spencer asks. "He didn't say anything about it when I talked to him last week."

"Well, last week they weren't fuck buddies and now they are." Emily fills in and everyone's eyes widen- including Aria's.

"Thanks, Em." She emits through gritted teeth. "Remind me to air your dirty laundry out to dry the next time you piss me off."

"Aria, that's really dangerous." Spencer shakes her head. "He doesn't know how deep your feelings actually run for him and by going along with this-"

"Spence, it was my idea." Aria replies and Emily nods.

"Yeah," She adds. " _He's_ the one with the feelings, not her."

"Aria!" Hanna exclaims and she sighs.

"Emily, Jesus, can you shut up? Please? Just for a second?" Aria exclaims. "Guys, it's not a big deal-"

"It is a big deal!" Hanna disagrees. "You can't just lead him on!"

"I'm not leading him on." She insists. "I _do_ have feelings for him and I care about him a lot. I just don't know that I'm in love with him the way he is with me. And how am I supposed to figure that out if I don't try?"

"Date him?" Spencer suggests, the other two girls nodding in agreement. "Sleeping with him over and over is going to accomplish nothing."

Aria smirks. "Well, actually, it'll accomplish something."

"Gross," Spencer pulls a face. "This man is my brother. _Why_ are we still talking about this?"

"Em," Hanna points out. "Your turn. What's going on with you lately?"

"A whole lot of nothing." Emily replies. "Paige and I are off-"

"Again," Aria not so helpfully points out. "Third time this month."

"Second," Emily corrects her, frowning. "And I haven't really been in the dating mood since."

"Aw, I'm sorry."

"Yeah, that sucks."

"You guys," Hanna then says to break up the awkwardness. "I missed you all so much. I know we all have completely different lives and we're super busy all the time and none of us live here anymore, but you're still my best friends and I don't know what I'd do without any of you."

Aria grins too. "I love you guys."

"And I don't mean to break up the love fest at all," Caleb says, glancing at his watch. "But we should probably go."

"Shit," Spencer curses, checking the time. "We've been sitting here for two hours?"

"Let's head out." Emily suggests as they all stand and make their way to the door. "There's someone else we should pay a visit to."

On the way out, the hostess presents Emily with a mason jar of pink lemonade, as is custom, and she thanks her graciously as they take the quick walk towards the center of the town. Alison's memorial is towards the back of the park, large enough to be noticed by onlookers and passersby but not quite featured as the small park's main attraction. Toby and Caleb hang back a little, letting the girls have their time, and the four approach the small fountain, tossing pennies like children, before settling before the bench they had dedicated to her the year everything had gone to hell. A plaque with teeny tiny writing is attached to the fountain, but Spencer can read it from here: _In Memory of Alison DiLaurentis, 1994-2009. "Suffering has been stronger than all other teaching, and has taught me to understand what your heart used to be. I have been bent and broken, but- I hope- into a better shape._ " Emily had picked the quote; straight from _Great Expectations_ , a book she and Ali had both loved.

Alison had asked them one summer, " _Haven't you guys ever thought about how deliciously tragic it would be to die in some incredibly mysterious way?_ " It had given Spencer goose bumps back then, even after Alison had insisted this was the way to go. She craved the mystery, the intrigue, the excitement. She craved the attention, the fanfare, the remembrance. She wanted her name to be known far and wide; she wanted to be the girl everyone mourned, the one people would mention with passing comments of, " _Oh, how incredibly, mournfully tragic. She was gone too soon._ "

Now, Emily places the mason jar at the base of the fountain and the girls share a moment of silence for the fallen member of their group. After a while, Spencer feels Toby's arms come around her and she leans back in his embrace, remembering.

And somewhere, Spencer's sure, Alison is smiling.


End file.
